ALLIANCE  LIBRARY,  No.  2 


STREET  & SMITH,  PUBLISHERS,  NEW  YOR}^ 


ROBERT  HaW?’S 
SEVEN  DAYS 

A DREAM  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES 


Rev.  CHARLES  M.  SHELDON 

Author  of  “IN  HIS  STEPS” 


NEW  YORK 

STREET  & SMITH,  Publishers 

238  William  Street 


ROBERT  HARDY’S  SEVEN  DAYS. 


CHAPTER  L 

It  was  Sunday  night,  and  Robert  Harding 
had  just  come  home  from  the  evening  ser- 
vice in  the  church  at  Barton.  He  was  not 
in  the  habit  of  attending  the  evening  service, 
but  something  said  by  his  minister  in  the 
morning  had  impelled  him  to  go  out.  The 
evening  had  been  a little  unpleasant,  and  a 
' v light  snow  was  falling,  and  his  wife  had 
excused  herself  from  going  to  church  on 
that  account.  Mr.  Hardy  came  home  cross 
.^■^and  fault-finding. 

“Catch  me  going  to  evening  service  again ! 
Only  fifty  people  out,  and  it  was  a sheer 
^ waste  of  fuel  and  light.  The  sermon  was 
^^one  of  the  dullest  I ever  heard.  I believe 
^ Mr.  Jones  is  growing  too  old  for  our  church. 
!s^  We  need  a young  man,  more  up  with  the 


1 149959 


8 Robert  Hardy s Seven  Days. 

times.  He  is  everlastingly  harping  on  the 
necessity  of  doing  what  we  can  in  the  present 
to  save  souls.  To  hear  him  talk  you  would 
think  every  man  who  wasn’t  running  round 
to  save  souls  every  Winter  was  a robber  and 
an  enemy  of  society.  He  is  getting  off,  too, 
on  this  new-fangled  Christian  Sociology, 
and  thinks  the  rich  men  are  oppressing  the 
poor,  and  that  church  members  ought  to 
study  and  follow  more  closely  the  teachings 
of  Christ  and  be  more  brotherly  and  neigh- 
borly to  their  fellow  men.  Bah ! I am  sick 
of  the  whole  subject  of  humanity.  I shall 
withdraw  my  pledge  to  the  salary  if  the 
present  style  of  preaching  continues.” 

‘‘What  was  the  text  of  the  sermon  to- 
night?” asked  Mrs.  Hardy. 

“Oh,  I don’t  remember  exactly!  Some- 
thing about  ‘This  night  thy  soul  shall  be 
demanded,’  or  words  like  that.  I don’t 
believe  in  this  attempt  to  scare  folks  into 
heaven.” 

“It  would  take  a good  many  sermons  to 
scare  you,  Robert.” 


Robert  Hardy s Seven  Days.  9 

^‘Yes;  more  than  two  a week/’  replied 
Mr.  Hardy,  with  a dry  laugh.  He  drew 
off  his  overcoat  and  threw  himself  down 
on  the  lounge  in  front  of  the  open  fire. 
^^Where  are  the  girls?” 

‘‘Alice  is  upstairs  reading  the  morning 
paper;  Clara  and  Bess  went  over  to  call  on 
the  Caxtons.” 

“How  did  they  happen  to  go  over  there?” 
Mrs.  Hardy  hesitated.  Finally  she  said: 
“James  came  over  and  invited  them.” 

“And  they  know  I have  forbidden  them 
to  have  anything  to  do  with  the  Caxtons! 
When  they  come  in  I will  let  them  know 
I mean  what  I say.  It  is  very  strange  the 
girls  do  not  appear  to  understand  that.” 
Mr.  Hardy  rose  from  the  lounge  and 
walked  across  the  room,  then  came  back  and 
lay  down  again,  and  from  his  recumbent 
position  poked  the  fire  savagely  with  the 
shovel. 

Mrs.  Hardy  bit  her  lips  and  seemed  on  the 
point  of  replying,  but  said  nothing. 


lo  Robert  Hard)P s Seven  Days. 

At  last  Mr.  Hardy  asked:  '‘Where  are  the 
boys 

"Will  is  getting  out  his  lessons  for  to- 
morrow up  in  his  room.  George  went  out 
about  eight  o’clock.  He  didn’t  say  where 
he  was  going.” 

"It’s  a nice  family.  Is  there  one  night  in 
the  year,  Mary,  when  all  our  children  are 
at  home?” 

"Almost  as  many  as  there  are  when  you 
are  at  home !”  retorted  Mrs.  Hardy.  "What 
with  your  club  and  your  lodge  and  your 
scientific  society  and  your  reading  circle  and 
your  directors’  meeting,  the  children  see 
about  as  much  of  you  as  you  do  of  them. 
How  many  nights  in  a week  do  you  give 
to  us,  Robert?  Do  you  think  it  is  strange 
that  the  children  go  outside  for  their  amuse- 
ments? Our  home” — Mrs.^  Hardy  paused 
and  looked  around  at  the  costly  interior  of 
the  room  where  the  two  were — "our  home 
is  well  furnished  with  everything  but  our 
own  children!” 

The  man  on  the  lounge  was  silent.  He 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days,  ii 

felt  the  sharpness  of  the  thrust  made  by  his 
wife,  and  knew  it  was  too  true  to  be  denied. 
But  Mr.  Hardy  was,  above  all  things  else, 
selfish.  He  had  not  the  remotest  intention 
of  giving  up  his  club  or  his  scientific  society 
or  his  frequent  cozy  dinners  with  business 
men  down  town  because  his  wife  spent  so 
many  lonely,  deserted  evenings  at  home  and 
because  his  children  were  almost  strangers 
to  him.  But  it  annoyed  him,  as  a respectable 
citizen,  to  have  his  children  making  ac- 
quaintances that  he  did  not  approve,  and  it 
grated  on  his  old-fashioned,  inherited  New 
England  ideas  that  his  boys  and  girls  should 
be  away  from  home  so  often  in  the  evening, 
and  especially  on  Sunday  evening.  The 
maxim  of  Robert  Hardy's  life  was  '^Self- 
interest  first."  As  long  as  he  was  not 
thwarted  in  his  own  pleasures  he  was  as 
good-natured  as  the  average  man.  He  pro- 
vided liberally  for  the  household  expenses, 
and  his  wife  and  children  were  supplied  with 
money  and  travel  as  they  requested  it.  But 
the  minute  he  was  crossed  in  his  own  plans. 


12  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

or  any  one  demanded  of  him  a service  that 
compelled  some  self-denial,  he  became  hard, 
ill-natured  and  haughty. 

He  had  been  a member  of  the  church  at 
Barton  for  twenty-five  years,  one  of  the 
trustees,  and  a liberal  giver.  He  prided  him- 
self on  that  fact.  But  so  far  as  giving  any 
of  his  time  or  personal  service  was  con- 
cerned, he  would  as  soon  have  thought  of 
giving  all  his  property  away  to  the  first 
poor  man  he  met.  His  minister  had  this 
last  week  written  him  an  earnest,  warm- 
hearted letter,  expressing  much  pleasure  at 
the  service  he  had  rendered  so  many  years 
as  a trustee,  and  asking  him  if  he  would  not 
come  to  the  Thursday  evening  meeting  that 
week  and  take  some  part,  whatever  he  chose, 
to  help  along.  It  was  a season  of  anxious 
interest  among  many  in  the  church,  and  the 
pastor  earnestly  desired  the  presence  and 
help  of  all  the  members. 

Robert  had  read  the  letter  through  hastily 
and  smiled  a little  scornfully.  What ! he 
take  part  in  a prayer  meeting!  He  couldnT 


Robert  Hardyh  Seven  Days,  13 

remember  when  he  had  attended  one — they 
were  too  dull  for  him.  He  wondered  at 
Mr.  Jones  for  writing  such  a letter,  and 
almost  felt  as  though  he  had  been  imperti- 
nent. He  threw  the  letter  in  the  waste 
basket  and  did  not  even  answer  it.  He 
would  not  have  been  guilty  of  such  a lack 
of  courtesy  in  regard  to  a business  letter, 
but  a letter  from  his  minister  was  another 
thing.  The  idea  of  replying  to  a letter  from 
him  never  occurred  to  Mr.  Hardy.  And 
when  Thursday  night  came  he  went  down 
to  a meeting  of  the  chess  club  and  had  a 
good  time  with  his  favorite  game;  for  he 
was  a fine  player,  and  was  engaged  in  a 
series  of  games  which  were  being  played  for 
the  State  championship. 

The  superintendent  of  the  Sunday-school 
had  lately  timidly  approached  Mr.  Hardy  and 
asked  him  if  he  would  not  take  a class  of 
boys  in  the  Sunday-school.  What!  he  take 
a class  of  boys!  He,  the  influential,  wealthy 
manager  of  one  of  the  largest  railroad  shops 
in  the  world — he  give  his  time  to  the  teach- 


14  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

ing  of  a Sunday-school  class!  He  excused 
himself  on  the  score  of  lack  of  time,  and 
the  very  same  evening  of  his  interview  with 
the  superintendent  he  went  to  the  theatre  to 
hear  a roaring  farce,  and  after  he  reached 
home  spent  an  hour  in  his  favorite  study  of 
chemistry  in  his  laboratory  at  the  top  of  his 
house:  for  Mr.  Hardy  was  a man  of  con- 
siderable power  as  a student,  and  he  had  an 
admirable  physical  constitution,  capable  of 
the  most  terrible  strain.  Anything  that  gave 
him  pleasure  he  was  willing  to  work  for. 
He  was  not  lazy  ; but  the  idea  of  giving  his 
personal  time  and  service  and  talents  to  bless 
the  world  had  no  more  in  his  mind. 

And  so,  as  he  lay  on  the  lounge  that  even- 
ing and  listened  to  his  wife's  plain  statement 
concerning  his  selfishness^  he  had  no  inten- 
tion to  give  up  a single  thing  that  gratified 
his  tastes  and  fed  his  pride. 

After  a silence  just  about  long  enough  for 
some  one  to  give  the  explanation  just  given, 
Mrs.  Hardy  said,  speaking  coldly,  as  if  it 
were  a matter  of  indiflference  to  her: 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  15 

‘‘Mr.  Burns,  the  foreman,  called  while  you 
were  out.’’ 

“He  did?  What  did  he  want?” 

“He  said  four  of  the  men  in  the  casting- 
room  were  severely  injured  this  afternoon 
by  the  bursting  of  one  of  the  retorts,  and  the 
entire  force  had  quit  work  and  gone  home.” 
“Couldn’t  Burns  supply  the  place  of  the  in- 
jured men  ? He  knows  where  the  extras  are.” 
“That  was  what  he  came  to  see  you  about. 
He  said  he  needed  further  directions.  The 
men  flatly  refused  to  work  another  minute 
and  went  out  in  a body.  I don’t  blame  them 
much.  Robert,  don’t  you  believe  God  will 
punish  you  for  keeping  the  shops  open  on 
any  Sunday.’  ” 

“Nonsense,  Mary,”  replied  Mr.  Hardy ; 
yet  there  was  a shadow  of  uneasiness  in  his 
tone.  “The  work  has  got  to  go  on.  It  is 
a work  of  necessity.  Railroads  are  public 
servants;  they  can’t  rest  Sundays.” 

“Then  when  God  tells  the  world  that 
it  must  not  work  on  Sundays,  he  does  not 
mean  railroad  men  ? The  Fourth  Com- 


1 6 Robert  HardyPs  Seven  Days. 

mandment  ought  to  read,  ‘Remember  the 
Sabbath  day  and  keep  it  holy,  except  all  ye 
men  who  work  for  railroads.  Ye  haven’t 
any  Sunday.’  ” 

“Mary,  I didn’t  come  from  one  sermon  to 
listen  to  another.  You’re  worse  than  Mr. 
Jones.” 

Mr.  Hardy  half  rose  on  the  lounge  and 
leaned  on  his  elbow,  looking  at  his  wife  with 
every  mark  of  displeasure  on  his  face,  and 
yet,  as  he  looked,  somehow  there  stole  into 
his  thought  the  memory  of  the  old  New 
England  home  back  in  the  Vermont  hills,  and 
the  vision  of  that  quiet  little  country  village 
where  Mary  and  he  had  been  brought  up 
together.  He  seemed  to  see  the  old  meeting- 
house on  the  hill,  at  the  end  of  a long,  elm- 
shaded  street  that  straggled  through  the  vil- 
lage, and  he  saw  himself  again  as  he  began 
to  fall  in  love  with  Mary,  the  beauty  of  the 
village;  and  he  had  a vision  of  one  Sunday 
when,  walking  back  from  church  by  Mary’s 
side,  he  had  asked  her  to  be  his  wife.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  a breath  of  the  meadow 


Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days.  17 

just  beyond  Squire  Hazen’s  place  came  into 
the  room,  just  as  it  was  wafted  up  to  him 
when  Mary  turned  and  said  the  happy  word 
that  made  that  day  the  gladdest,  proudest 
day  he  had  ever  known.  What,  memories 
of  the  old  times ! What ! 

He  seemed  to  come  to  himself,  and  stared 
around  into  the  fire  as  if  wondering  where 
he  was,  and  he  did  not  see  the  tear  that 
rolled  down  his  wife’s  cheek  and  fell  upon 
her  two  hands  clasped  in  her  lap.  She  arose 
and  went  over  to  the  piano,  which  stood  in 
the  shadow,  and,  sitting  down  with  her  back 
to  her  husband,  she  played  fragments  of 
music  nervously.  Mr.  Hardy  lay  down  on 
the  lounge  again.  After  a while  Mrs.  Hardy 
wheeled  about  on  the  piano  stool  and  said: 

‘‘Robert,  don’t  you  think  you  had  better 
go  over  and  see  Mr.  Burns  about  the  men 
who  were  hurt?” 

“Why,  what  can  I do  about  it  ? The 
company’s  doctor  will  see  to  them.  I should 
only  be  in  the  way.  Did  Burns  say  they 
were  badly  hurt?” 


1 8 Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

‘'One  of  them  had  his  eyes  put  out,  and 
another  will  have  to  lose  both  feet.  I think 
he  said  his  name  was  Scoville.’' 

“What!  not  Ward  Scoville!’’ 

“I  think  Burns  said  that  was  the  name.'^ 
Mr.  Hardy  rose  from  the  lounge,  then  lay 
down  again.  “Oh,  well,  I can  go  there  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning.  I can't  do  any- 
thing now,"  he  muttered. 

But  there  came  to  his  memory  a picture 
of  one  day  when  he  was  walking  through 
the  machine  shops,  and  a heavy  piece  of  cast- 
ing had  broken  from  the  end  of  a large  hoist- 
ing derrick  and  would  have  fallen  upon  him 
and  probably  killed  him  if  this  man,  Scoville, 
at  the  time  a workman  in  the  machine  de- 
partment, had  not  pulled  him  to  one  side, 
at  the  danger  of  his  own  life.  As  it  was, 
in  saving  the  life  of  the  manager,  Scoville 
was  struck  on  the  shoulder  and  rendered  use- 
less for  work  for  four  weeks.  Mr.  Hardy 
had  raised  his  wages  and  advanced  him  to  a 
responsible  position  in  the  casting-room. 
Mr.  Hardy  was  not  a man  without  generosity 


Robert  Hardy s Seven  Days.  19 

and  humane  feeling;  but  as  he  lay  on  the 
lounge  that  evening  and  thought  of  the  cold 
snow  outside  and  the  distance  to  the  shop 
tenements,  he  readily  excused  himself  from 
going  out  to  see  the  man  who  had  once  saved 
his  life,  and  who  now  lay  maimed  for  life. 
If  any  one  thinks  it  impossible  that  one  man 
calling  himself  a Christian  could  be  thus  in- 
different to  another,  then  he  does  not  know 
the  power  that  selfishness  can  exercise  over 
the  actions  of  men.  Mr.  Hardy  had  one  su- 
preme law  which  he  obeyed,  and  that  law 
was  self. 

Again  Mrs.  Hardy,  who  rarely  ventured 
to  oppose  her  husband's  wishes,  turned  to 
the  piano  and  struck  a few  chords  aimlessly. 
Then  she  wheeled  about  and  said  abruptly: 

‘‘Robert,  the  cook  gave  warning  to-night 
that  she  must  go  home  at  once." 

Mr.  Hardy  had  begun  to  doze  a little,  but 
at  this  sudden  statement  he  sat  up  and  ex- 
claimed : 

“Well,  you  are  the  bearer  of  bad  news 


20  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

to-night,  Mary ! What’s  the  matter  with 
everybody?  I suppose  the  cook  wants  more 
pay.” 

Mrs.  Hardy  replied  quietly:  ‘‘Her  sister 
is  dying.  And,  do  you  know,  I believe  I 
have  never  given  the  girl  credit  for  much 
feeling.  She  always  seemed  to  me  to  lack 
there,  though  she  is  certainly  the  most  faith- 
ful and  efficient  servant  .we  ever  had  in  the 
house.  She  came  in  just  after  Mr.  Burns 
left,  and  broke  down,  crying  bitterly.  It 
seems  her  sister  is  married  to  one  of  the 
railroad  men  here  in  town,  and  has  been 
ailing  with  consumption  for  some  months. 
She  is  very  poor,  and  a large  family  has  kept 
her  struggling  for  mere  existence.  The  cook 
was  almost  beside  herself  with  grief  as  she 
tcld  the  story,  and  said  she  must  leave  us 
and  care  for  her  sister,  who  could  not  live 
more  than  a week  at  the  longest.  I pitied 
the  poor  girl.  Robert,  don’t  you  think  we 
could  do  something  for  the  family?  We  have 
so  much  ourselves.  We  could  easily  help 
them  and  not  miss  a single  luxury.” 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  2 1 

‘‘And  where  would  such  help  end?  If  we 
give  to  every  needy  person  who  comes  along 
we  shall  be  beggars  ourselves.  Besides,  I 
can^t  afford  it.  The  boys  are  a heavy  ex- 
pense to  me  while  they  are  in  college,  and 
the  company  has  been  cutting  down  salaries 
lately.  If  the  cook's  sister  is  married  to  a 
railroad  man,  he  is  probably  getting  good 
wages  and  can  support  her  all  right." 

“What  if  that  railroad  man  were  injured 
and  made  a cripple  for  life?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Hardy  quietly. 

“Then  the  insurance  companies  or  the 
societies  can  help  them  out.  I don't  see  how 
we  can  make  every  case  that  comes  along  our 
care.  There  would  be  no  end  of  it  if  we 
once  began." 

“As  nearly  as  I could  find  out,"  continued 
Mrs.  Hardy,  without  replying  to  her  hus- 
band's remarks,  “cook's  sister  is  married  to 
one  of  the  men  who  was  hurt  this  afternoon. 
She  talks  so  brokenly  in  our  language  that 
I could  not  make  out  exactly  how  it  is ; and 


22  Robert  HardyPs  Seven  Days.  . 

she  was  much  excited.  Suppose  it  was  Sco- 
ville;  couldn't  you  do  something  for  them 
then,  Robert?" 

''I  might,"  replied  Mr.  Hardy,  briefly. 
^‘But  I can  tell  you,  I have  more  calls  for 
my  money  now  than  I can  meet.  Take  the 
church  expenses,  for  example.  Why,  we  are 
called  upon  to  give  to  some  cause  or  other 
every  week,  besides  our  regular  pledges  for 
current  expenses.  It's  a constant  drain.  I 
shall  have  to  cut  down  on  my  pledge.  We 
can't  be  giving  to  everything  all  the  time, 
and  have  anything  ourselves." 

Mr.  Hardy  spoke  with  a touch  of  indig- 
nation, and  his  wife  glanced  around  the 
almost  palatial  room  and  smiled ; then  her 
face  grew  a little  stern  and  almost  forbid- 
ding as  she  remembered  that  only  last  week 
her  husband  had  spent  $150  for  a new 
electrical  apparatus  to  experiment  with  in  his 
laboratory.  And  now  he  was  talking  hard 
times,  and  grudging  the  small  sums  he  gave 
to  religious  objects  in  connection  with  his 
church,  and  thinking  he  could  not  afford  to 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  23 

help  the  family  of  a man  who  had  once  saved 
his  life! 

Again  she  turned  to  the  piano  and  played 
a while,  but  she  could  not  be  rested  by  the 
music  as  sometimes  she  had  been.  When  she 
finally  arose  and  walked  over  by  the  table 
near  the  end  of  the  lounge,  Mr.  Hardy  was 
asleep,  and  she  sat  down  by  the  table,  gazing 
into  the  open  fire  drearily,  a look  of  sorrow 
and  unrest  on  the  face  still  beautiful  but 
worn  by  years  of  disappointment  and  the  loss 
of  that  respect  and  admiration  she  once  held 
for  the  man  who  had  vowed  at  the  altar  to 
make  her  happy.  She  had  not  lost  her  love 
for  him  wholly,  but  she  was  fast  losing  the 
best  part  of  it,  the  love  which  has  its  daily 
source  in  an  inborn  respect.  When  respect 
is  gone,  love  is  not  long  in  following  after. 

She  sat  thus  for  half  an  hour,  and  was 
at  last  aroused  by  the  two  girls,  Clara  and 
Bess,  coming  in.  They  were  laughing  and 
talking  together,  and  had  evidently  parted 
with  some  one  at  the  door.  Mrs.  Hardy 
went  out  into  the  hallway. 


24  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

‘‘Hush,  girls,  your  father  is  asleep!  You 
know  how  he  feels  to  be  awakened  suddenly 
by  noise.  But  he  has  been  waiting  up 
for  you.” 

“Then  I guess  we’ll  go  upstairs  without 
bidding  him  good-night,”  said  Clara,  abrupt- 
ly. “I  don’t  want  to  be  lectured  about  go- 
ing over  to  the  Caxtons’.” 

“No;  I want  to  see  you  both  and  have 
a little  talk  with  you.  Come  in  here.”  Mrs. 
Hardy  drew  the  two  girls  into  the  front  room 
and  pulled  the  curtains  together  over  the 
arch  opening  into  the  room  where  Mr.  Hardy 
lay.  “Now  tell  me,  girls,  why  did  your 
father  forbid  your  going  over  to  the  Cax- 
tons? I did  not  know  until  to-night.  Has 
it  something  to  do  with  James?” 

Neither  of  the  girls  said  anything  for  a 
minute.  Then  Bess,  who  was  the  younger 
of  the  two  and  famous  for  startling  the  fam- 
ily with  very  sensational  remarks,  replied: 
“James  and  Clara  are  engaged ; and  they  are 
going  to  be  married  to-morrow.” 

Mrs.  Hardy  looked  at  Clara,  and  the  girl 


Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days.  25 

grew  very  red  in  the  face;  and  then,  to  the 
surprise  of  her  mother  and  Bess,  she  burst 
out  into  a violent  fit  of  crying.  Mrs.  Hardy 
gathered  her  into  her  arms  as  in  the  olden 
times  when  she  was  a little  child,  and  soothed 
her  into  quietness. 

''Tell  me  all  about  it,  dear.  I did  not 
know  you  cared  for  James  in  that  way.'’ 

"But  I do,"  sobbed  Clara.  "And  father 
guessed  something  and  forbade  us  going 
there  any  more.  But  I didn't  think  he  would 
mind  it  if  Bess  and  I went  just  this  one 
night.  I couldn’t  help  it,  anyway.  Mother, 
isn't  it  right  for  people  to  love  each  other?" 

" 'Tisn't  proper  to  talk  about  such  things 
on  Sunday,"  said  Bess,  solemnly. 

"Clara!"  said  Mrs.  Hardy;  "why  you're 
only  a child  yet!  Is  it  true  that  James  is — 
why,  he  is  only  a boy!" 

"He  is  twenty-one  and  I am  eighteen,  and 
he's  earning  forty  dollars  a month  in  the 
office  and  is  one  of  the  best  stenographers  in 
the  State.  We've  talked  it  over,  and  I wish 
we  could  be  married  to-morrow,  so !"  Clara 


26  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

burst  out  with  it  all  at  oncej  while  Bess  re- 
marked quietly: 

''Yes,  they’re  real  sensible,  and  I think 
James  is  nice ; but  when  I marry  I want  more 
than  forty  dollars  a month  for  candy  alone. 
And  then  he  isn’t  particularly  handsome.” 
"He  is,  too !”  cried  Clara.  "And  he’s  good 
and  brave  and  splendid,  and  I’d  rather  have 
him  than  a thousand  such  men  as  Lancey 
Cummings!  Mother,  I don’t  want  money. 
It  hasn’t  made  you  happy !” 

"Hush,  dear!”  Mrs.  Hardy  felt  as  if  a 
blow  had  smitten  her  in  the  face.  She  was 
silent  then. 

Clara  put  her  arms  around  her  mother  and 
whispered : "Forgive  me,  mother ! I didn’t 
mean  to  hurt  you.  But  I am  so  unhappy !” 
Unhappy!  And  yet  the  girl  was  just  be- 
ginning to  blossom  out  toward  the  face  of 
God  under  the  influence  of  that  most  divine 
and  tender  and  true  feeling  that  ever  comes 
tc  a girl  who  knows  a true,  brave  man  loves 
her  with  all  his  soul.  And  some  people 
would  have  us  leave  this  subject  to  the  flip- 


Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days,  27 

pant  novelist  instead  of  treating  it  as  Christ 
did  when  he  said:  ''For  this  cause  (that  is, 
for  love)  shall  a man  leave  his  father  and 
mother,  and  cleave  unto  his  wife/' 

Mrs.  Hardy  was  on  the  point  of  saying 
something  when  the  sound  of  peculiar  steps 
on  the  stairs  was  heard,  and  shortly  after 
Alice  pushed  the  curtains  aside  and  came  in. 
Alice  was  the  oldest  girl  in  the  family.  She 
was  a cripple,  the  result  of  an  accident  when 
a child,  and  she  carried  a crutch,  using  it 
with  much  skill  and  even  grace.  The  minute 
she  entered  the  room  she  saw  something  was 
happening,  but  she  simply  said : 

"Mother,  isn't  it  a little  strange  father 
sleeps  so  soundly?  I went  up  to  him  and 
spoke  to  him  just  now,  thinking  he  was  just 
lying  there,  and  he  didn't  answer,  and  then 
I saw  he  was  asleep.  But  I never  knew  him 
to  sleep  so  Sunday  night.  He  usually  reads 
up  in  the  study." 

"Perhaps  he  is  sick ; I will  go  and  see." 
Mrs.  Hardy  rose  and  went  into  the  other 
room ; and  just  then  the  younger  boy.  Will, 


28  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

came  downstairs.  He  said  something  to  his 
mother  as  he  passed  through  the  room,  and 
then  came  in  where  the  girls  were,  carrying 
one  of  his  books  in  his  hand. 

‘‘Say,  Alice,  translate  this  passage  for  me, 
will  you?  Confound  the  old  Romans  any- 
way! What  do  I care  about  the  way  they 
fought  their  old  battles  and  built  their  old 
one-horse  bridges ! What  makes  me  angry  is 
the  way  Caesar  has  of  telling  a thing.  Why 
can’t  he  drive  right  straight  ahead  instead  of 
beating  about  the  bush  so?  If  I couldn’t  get 
up  a better  language  than  those  old  duffers 
used  to  write  their  books  in.  I’d  lie  down  and 
die.  I can’t  find  the  old  verb  to  that  sentence 
anyway.  Maybe  it’s  around  on  the  other 
page  somewhere,  or  maybe  Caesar  left  it  out 
just  on  purpose  to  plague  us  boys.” 

And  Will  shied  the  book  over  to  Alice,  who 
good-naturedly  began  to  read,  while  that 
much-suffering  youth  sat  down  by  Bess  and 
began  to  tease  her  and  Clara. 

“What  are  you  and  Clara  doing  at  this 
time  of  day  ? Time  you  youngsters  were  go- 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days,  29 

ing  upstairs.  Play  us  a little  tune,  Bessie, 
will  you?  What  you  been  crying  for,  Clara 
Vere  de  Vere?’" 

‘‘I  should  think  you  would  be  ashamed  of 
yourself.  Will,  studying  on  Sunday  nights 
said  little  Bess  reprovingly  and  with  dignity, 
“No  worse  than  sparking  Sunday  nights,^^ 
retorted  the  incorrigible  Will. 

“I  haven’t  been,”  replied  Bess,  indignantly, 

“Pve  been  with  Clara ” 

“She  doesn’t  need  any  help,  does  she?’^ 
inquired  Will,  innocently.  And,  going  over 
where  Clara  lay  with  her  face  hid  in  the 
pillow  of  a large  couch,  Will  tried  to  pull 
the  pillow  out  from  under  her  head. 

“Let  me  alone,  Will.  I don’t  feel  well,” 
said  a muffled  voice  from  the  pillow. 
“Pshaw!  you’re  fooling!” 

“No,  I’m  not.  Let  me  alone.” 

“Come  here,  or  I won’t  read  your  sentence 
for  you,”  called  Alice.  And  Will  reluctantly 
withdrew,  for  he  knew  from  experience  that 
Alice  would  keep  her  word. 

“All  right.  Now,  go  ahead ; not  too  fast. 


30  Robert  Hardy sSeven  Days. 

Here!  Wait  a minute!  Let  me  write  her 
down.  I don’t  intend  to  miss  to-morrow  if 
I can  help  it.  And  old  Romulus  will  call 
me  up  on  this  very  passage,  I know.  Be 
just  like  him,  though,  to  strike  me  on  the 
review.” 

At  that  minute  the  door  opened  and  in 
came  George,  the  elder  boy,  and  the  oldest 
of  the  group  of  children.  He  hung  up  hat 
and  coat  and  strolled  into  the  room. 
‘Where’s  mother?” 

“She’s  in  the  other  room,”  answered  Bess. 
“Father’s  been  asleep  and  mother  was  afraid 
he  was  going  to  have  a fever.” 

“That’s  one  of  your  stories,”  said  George, 
who  seemed  in  a good-natured  mood.  He 
sat  down  and  drew  his  little  sister  toward 
him  and  whispered  to  her : 

“Say,  Bess,  I want  some  money  again.” 
“Awfully?”  whispered  Bess. 

“Yes;  for  a special  reason.  Do  you  think 
you  could  let  me  have  a little  ?” 

“Why,  of  course!  Yoii  can  have  all  my 


Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days.  31 

month's  allowance.  But  why  don’t  you  ask 
father?" 

''No;  Tve  asked  him  too  much  lately.  He 
refused  point-blank  last  time.  I didn’t  like 
it  the  way  he  spoke.” 

"Well,  you  can  have  all  mine,”  said  Bess, 
whispering. 

George  and  she  were  great  friends,  and 
there  was  not  a thing  that  Bessie  would  not 
have  done  for  her  big  brother,  who  was  her 
hero.  What  he  wanted  with  so  much  money 
she  never  asked. 

They  were  still  whispering  together,  and 
Clara  had  just  risen  to  go  upstairs,  and  Alice 
and  Will  had  finished  the  translation,  and 
Will  was  just  on  the  point  of  seeing  how 
near  he  could  come  to  throwing  the  Com- 
mentaries of  Caesar  into  an  ornamental  Jap- 
anese jar  across  the  room,  when  Mrs.  Hardy 
parted  the  curtains  at  the  arch  and  beckoned 
her  children  to  come  into  the  next  roorn. 
Her  face  was  exceedingly  pale  and  she  was 
trembling  as  if  with  some  great  terror. 


CHAPTER  II. 


The  children  all  cried  out  in  surprise,  and 
hurried  into  the  next  room.  But  before  re- 
lating what  happened  there,  we  will  follow 
Mr.  Hardy  into  the  experience  he  had  just 
after  falling  asleep  upon  the  lounge  by  the 
open  fire. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  he  stepped  at  once 
from  the  room  where  he  lay  into  a place 
such  as  he  had  never  seen  before,  where  the 
one  great  idea  that  filled  his  entire  thought 
was  the  idea  of  the  Present  Moment.  Spread 
out  before  him,  as  if  reproduced  by  a phono- 
graph and  a magic  lantern  combined,  was  the 
moving  panorama  of  the  entire  world.  He 
thought  he  saw  into  every  home,  every  public 
place  of  business,  every  saloon  and  place  of 
amusement,  every  shop  and  every  farm, 
every  place  of  industry,  amusement  and 
vice  upon  the  face  of  the  globe.  And  he 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  33 

thought  he  could  hear  the  world’s  conver- 
sation, catch  its  sobs  of  suffering,  nay,  even 
catch  the  meaning  of  unspoken  thoughts  of 
the  heart.  With  that  absurd  rapidity  pecu- 
liar to  certain  dreams,  he  fancied  that  over 
every  city  on  the  globe  was  placed  a glass 
cover  through  which  he  could  look,  and 
through  which  the  sounds  of  the  city’s  in- 
dustry came  to  him.  But  he  thought  that  he 
ascertained  that  by  lifting  off  one  of  these 
covers  he  could  hear  with  greater  distinctness 
the  thoughts  of  the  inhabitants,  and  see  all 
they  were  doing  and  suffering,  with  the  most 
minute  exactness.  He  looked  for  the  place 
of  his  own  town,  Barton.  There  it  lay  in 
its  geographical  spot  pn  the  globe,  and  he 
thought  that,  moved  by  an  impulse  he  could 
not  resist,  he  lifted  off  the  cover  and  bent 
down  to  see  and  hear. 

The  first  thing  he  saw  was  his  minister’s 
home.  It  was  just  after  the  Sunday  even- 
ing service,  the  one  which  Mr.  Hardy  had 
thought  so  dull.  Mr.  Jones  was  talking  over 
the  evening  with  his  wife. 


34  Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days. 

‘'My  dear/'  he  said,  “I  feel  about  dis- 
couraged. Of  what  use  is  all  our  praying 
and  longing  for  the  Holy  Spirit,  when  our 
own  church  members  are  so  cold  and  un- 
spirkual  that  all  his  influence  is  destroyed? 
And  you  know  I made  a special  plea  to  all 
the  members  to  come  out  to-night,  and  only 
a handful  there.  I feel  like  giving  up  the 
struggle.  You  know  I could  make  a better 
living  in  literary  work,  and  the  children  could 
be  better  cared  for  then." 

“But,  John,  it  was  a bad  night  to  get  out; 
you  must  remember,  that." 

“But  only  fifty  out  of  a church  member- 
ship of  four  hundred,  most  of  them  living 
near  by!  It  doesn't  seem  just  right  to  me." 

“Mr.  Hardy  was  there.  Did  you  see  him  ?" 

“Yes;  after  service  I went  and  spoke  to 
him  and  he  treated  me  very  coldly.  And  yet 
he  is  the  most  wealthy,  and  in  some  ways 
the  most  gifted,  church  member  we  have. 
He  could  do  great  things  for  the  good  of 
this  community,  if " 

Suddenly  Mr.  Hardy  thought  the  minister 


Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days.  35 

changed  into  the  Sunday-school  superintend- 
ent, and  he  was  walking  down  the  street 
thinking  about  his  classes  in  the  school,  and 
Mr.  Hardy  thought  he  could  hear  the  super- 
intendent's thoughts,  as  if  his  ear  were  at  a 
phonograph. 

'‘It's  too  bad ! That  class  of  boys  I wanted 
Mr.  Hardy  to  take  left  the  school  because  no 
one  could  be  found  to  teach  them.  And  now 
Bob  Wilson  has  got  into  trouble  and  been 
arrested  for  petty  thieving.  It  will  be  a ter- 
rible blow  to  his  poor  mother.  Oh,  why  is 
it  that  men  like  Mr.  Hardy  cannot  be  made 
to  see  the  importance  of  work  in  the  Sunday- 
school?  With  his  knowledge  of  chemistry 
and  geology  he  could  have  reached  that  class 
of  boys  and  invited  them  to  his  home,  up 
into  his  laboratory,  and  exercised  an  influ- 
ence over  them  they  would  never  outgrow. 
Oh!  it’s  a strange  thing  to  me  that  men  of 
such  possibilities  do  not  realize  their  power !” 

The  superintendent  passed  along  shaking 
his  head  sorrowfully,  and  Mr.  Hardy,  who 
seemed  guided  by  some  power  he  could  not 


36  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

resist  and  compelled  to  listen  whether  he  liked 
it  or  not,  next  found  himself  looking  into 
one  of  the  railroad-shop  tenements,  where 
the  man  Scoville  was  lying,  awaiting  amputa- 
tion of  both  feet  after  the  terrible  accident. 
Scoville^s.  wife  lay  upon  a ragged  lounge, 
while  Mrs.  Hardy’s  cook  kneeled  by  her  side 
and  in  her  native  Swedish  tongue  tried  to 
comfort  the  poor  woman.  So  it  was  true 
that  these  two  were  sisters.  The  man  was 
still  conscious,  and  suffering  unspeakably. 
The  railroad  surgeon  had  been  sent  for,  but 
had  not  arrived.  Three  or  four  men  and 
their  wives  had  come  in  to  do  what  they 
could.  Mr.  Burns,  the  foreman,  was  among 
them.  One  of  the  men  spoke  in  a whisper 
to  him : 

^^Have  you  been  to  see  Mr.  Hardy?” 

“Yes;  but  he  was  at  church.  I left  word 
about  the  accident.” 

“At  church ! So  even  the  devil  some- 
times goes  to  church.  What  for,  I wonder  ? 
Will  he  be  here,  think?” 

“Don’t  know,”  replied  Mr.  Burns,  curtly. 


Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days.  37 

you  mind  when  — pointing  to  Sco- 

ville— ‘‘saved  Mr.  Hardy^s  life?’^ 

“Remember  it  well  enough ; was  standing 
close  by.'' 

“What'll!  be  done  with  the  children  when 
Scoville  goes,  eh?" 

“Don't  know." 

Just  then  the  surgeon  came  in  and  prepara- 
tions were  rapidly  made  for  the  operation. 
The  last  that  Mr.  Hardy  heard  was  the  shriek 
of  the  poor  wife  as  she  struggled  to  her  feet 
and  fell  in  a fit  across  the  floor  where  two 
of  the  youngest  children  clung  terrified  to  her 
dress,  *and  the  father  cried  out,  tears  of 
agony  and  despair  running  down  his  face, 
“My  God,  what  a hell  this  world  is !" 

The  next  scene  was  a room  where  every- 
thing appeared  confused  at  first,  but  finally 
grew  more  distinct  and  terrible  in  its  signifi- 
cance, and  the  first  person  Mr.  Hardy  recog- 
nized was  his  oldest  boy,  George,  in  company 
with  a group  of  young  men  engaged  in — 
what ! He  rubbed  his  eyes  and  stared  pain- 
fully. Yes;  they  were  gambling.  So  here 


38  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

was  where  George  spent  all  his  money,  and 
Bessie’s,  too!  Nothing  that  the  miserable 
father  had  seen  so  far  cut  him  to  the  quick 
quite  so  sharply  as  this.  He  had  prided  him- 
self on  his  own  freedom  from  vices,  and  had 
an  honest  horror  of  them;  for  Mr.  Hardy  is 
not  a monster  of  iniquity,  only  an  intensely 
selfish  man.  Gambling,  drinking,  impurity 
— all  the  physical  vices — were  to  Mr.  Hardy 
the  lowest  degradation. 

The  thought  that  his  own  son  had  fallen 
into  this  pit  was  terrible  to  him.  But  he 
was  compelled  to  look  and  listen.  All  the 
young  men  were  smoking,  and  beer  and  wine 
stood  on  a buffet  at  one  side  of  the  room 
and  were  plentifully  partaken  of. 

‘T  say,  George,”  said  a very  flashily 
dressed  youth  who  was  smoking  that  inven- 
tion of  the  devil,  a cigaret,  ‘'your  old  man 
would  rub  his  eyes  to  see  you  here,  eh?” 

“Well,  I should  remark  he  would,”  replied 
George,  as  he  shuffled  the  cards  and  then 
helped  himself  to  a drink. 

“I  say,  George,”  said  the  first  speaker. 


Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days.  39 

^‘your  sister  Bess  is  getting  to  be  a beauty. 
Introduce  me^  will  you?'’ 

‘‘No,  I won't,"  said  George,  shortly.  He 
had  been  losing  all  the  evening,  and  he  felt 
nervous  and  irritable. 

“Ah ! We  are  too  bad,  eh?" 

George  made  some  fierce  reply,  and  the 
other  fellow  struck  him.  Instantly  George 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  a fight®  took  place. 
Mr.  Hardy  could  not  bear  it  any  longer.  He 
thought  he  broke  away  from  the  scene  by 
the  exercise  of  a great  determination,  and 
next  found  himself  looking  into  his  own 
home.  It  seemed  to  him  it  was  an  evening 
when  he  and  all  the  children  had  gone  out, 
and  Mrs.  Hardy  sat  alone,  looking  into  the 
fire  as  she  had  been  looking  before  he  fell 
asleep.  She  was  thinking,  and  her  thoughts 
were  like  burning  coals  as  they  fell  into  Mr. 
Hardy's  heart  and  scorched  him,  as  not  any 
scene,  not  even  the  last,  had  done. 

“My  husband !"  Mrs.  Hardy  was  saying  to 
herself ; “how  long  it  is  since  he  gave  me 
a caress,  kissed  me  when  he  went  to  his  work, 


40  Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days. 

or  laid  his  hand  lovingly  on  my  cheek  as  he 
used  to  do!  How  brave  and  handsome  and 
good  I used  to  think  him  in  the  old  Vermont 
days  when  we  were  struggling  for  our  little 
home,  and  his  best  thought  was  of  the  home 
and  of  the  wife ! But  the  years  have  changed 
him ; oh,  yes ! they  have  changed  him  bitterly. 
I wonder  if  he  realizes  my  hunger  for  his  af- 
fection I Ol  what  value  to  me  are  all  these 
baubles  wealth  brings  compared  with  a loving 
look,  a tender  smile,  an  aflfectionate  caress! 
Oh,  Robert  I Robert ! Come  back  to  me ! for 
I am  so  lonely,  so  lonely!  Would  to  God 
all  our  riches  might  be  taken  from  us  and  all 
our  position  in  society  be  lost  to  us ! for  I 
am  fast  losing  my  love  for  him  who  is  my 
husband ! Great  and  long-suffering  and  for- 
giving God,  help  me!  I feel  wicked  some- 
times. I cannot  bear  this  kind  of  a life.  It 
is  killing  me!  It  is  robbing  me  of  all  that 
life  contains  that  is  sweet  and  true.  Oh, 
Father  of  Mercies,  for  Jesus'  sake  do  not  let 
me  grow  insane  or  without  belief ! Oh, 
Robert,  Robert!  my  lover,  my  husband!  I 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  41 

will,  I will  love  you  V And  Mrs*  Harc^  fell 
on  her  knees  by  the  side  of  the  couch  and 
buried  her  face  in  its  cushions  and  sobbed  and 
prayed. 

Suddenly  the  whole  scene  changed,  and 
Mr.  Hardy,  who  had  stretched  out  his  arms 
to  comfort  his  wife  as  in  the  old  days  when 
love  was  young,  felt  himself  carried  by  an 
irresistible  power  up  away  from  the  earth, 
past  the  stars  and  planets  and  suns  and  satel- 
lites that  blazed  like  gems  in  space;  on,  on, 
for  what  seemed  to  him  like  ages  of  time, 
until  even  the  thought  of  time  grew  indis- 
tinct; on  and  up  and  into  the  presence  of 
the  most  mighty  Face  he  had  ever  looked 
into.  It  was  the  Face  of  Eternity.  On  its 
brow  was  written  in  words  of  blazing  light 
the  one  word,  ‘‘Now.’^  And  as  he  looked 
into  that  calm,  awful  Face  and  read  that 
awful  word,  Mr.  Hardy  felt  his^  soul  crumble 
within  him.  When  the  Face  spoke  it  was 
the  speech  of  a thousand  oceans  heaved  by 
a million  tempests,  yet  through  the  terror  of 
it  ran  a thread  of  music— a still  sweet 


42  'Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

sound  like  everlasting  love — as  if  angels  sang 
wsomewhere  a divine  accompaniment.  And 
the  Face  said: 

^‘Child  of  humanity,  you  have  neglected 
and  despised  me  for  fifty  years.  You  have 
lived  for  yourself.  You  have  been  careless 
and  thoughtless  of  the  world's  great  needs. 
The  time  of  your  redemption  is  short.  It  has 
been  granted  you  by  Him  who  rules  the 
world  that  you  should  have  but  seven  more 
days  to  live  upon  the  earth — seven  days  to 
help  redeem  your  soul  from  everlasting 
shame  and  death.  Mortal,  see  to  it  that  thou 
usest  the  precious  time  like  those  who  toil  for 
jewels  in  the  mine  beneath  the  sea.  I who 
speak  unto  thee  am  Eternity." 

Then  Robert  Hardy  thought  he  fell  upon 
his  face  before  that  awful  Face  and  begged 
in  bitterest  terror  for  a longer  lease  of  life. 

'"Seven  days!  Why,  it  will  be  but  seven 
swift  seconds  to  redeem  my  past!  Seven 
days ! It  will  be  a nothing  in  the  marking  of 
time!  O mighty  Power,  grant  me  longer! 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  43 

Seven  weeks ! Seven  years ! And  I will  live 
for  thee  as  never  mortal  yet  lived  V 
And  Robert  Hardy  sobbed  and  held  his 
arms  beseechingly  up  toward  that  most  re- 
splendent Face.  And  as  he  thus  stretched 
out  his  arms,  the  Face  bent  down  toward 
his,  and  he  thought  a smile  of  pity  gleamed 
upon  it,  and  he  hoped  that  more  time  would 
be  granted  him ; and  then,  as  it  came  nearer, 
he  suddenly  awoke,  and  there  was  his  own 
wife  bending  over  him,  and  a tear  from  her 
face  fell  upon  his  own  as  she  said: 

''Robert ! Robert  T’ 

Mr.  Hardy  sat  up  confused  and  trembling. 
Then  he  clasped  his  wife  to  him  and  kissed 
her  as  he  used  to  do.  And  then  to  her  great 
amazement  he  related  to  her  in  a low  tone 
the  dream  he  had  just  had.  Mrs.  Hardy  lis- 
tened in  the  most  undisguised  astonishment. 
But  what  followed  filled  her  heart  with  fear. 

"Mary,’’  said  her  husband  with  the  utmost 
solemnity,  "I  cannot  regard  this  as  a dream 
alone.  I have  awakened  with  the  firm  con- 
viction that  I have  only  seven  days  left  to 


44  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

live.  I feel  that  God  has  spoken  to  me ; and 
I have  only  seven  days  more  to  do  my  work 
in  this  world/’ 

‘‘O  Robert!  it  was  only  a dream.” 

‘'No;  it  was  more,  Mary.  You  know  I am 
not  imaginative  or  superstitious  in  the  least. 
You  know  I never  dream.  And  this  was 
something  else.  I shall  die  out  of  this  world 
a week  from  to-night.  Are  the  children  here? 
Call  them  in.” 

Mr.  Hardy  spoke  in  a tone  of  such  calm 
conviction  that  Mrs.  Hardy  was  filled  with 
wonder  and  fear.  She  went  to  the  curtain, 
and,  as  we  have  already  recorded,  she  called 
the  children  into  the  other  room. 

Mr.  Hardy  gazed  upon  his  children  with 
a look  they  had  not  seen  upon  his  face  for 
years.  Briefly  but  calmly  he  related  his  ex- 
perience, omitting  the  details  of  the  vision 
and  all  mention  of  the  scene  where  George 
had  appeared,  and  then  declared  with  a 
solemnity  and  impressiveness  that  could  not 
be  resisted : 

“My  dear  children,  I have  not  lived  as  I 


Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days.  45 

should.  I have  not  been  to  you  the  father 
I ought  to  have  been.  I have  lived  a very  sel- 
fish, useless  life.  I have  only  seveq,  more 
days  to  live.  God  has  spoken  to  me.  I am 

He  broke  off  suddenly,  and,  sobbing  as 
only  a strong  man  can,  he  drew  his  wife  to- 
ward him  and  caressed  her,  while  Bess  crept 
up  and  put  her  arms  about  her  father's  neck. 

The  terrible  suspicion  shot  into  Mrs. 
Hardy's  mind  that  her  husband  was  insane. 
The  children  were  terrified ; only  Alice 
seemed  to  catch  the  reflection  of  her  moth- 
er's thought.  At  the  same  time  Mr.  Hardy 
seemed  to  feel  the  suspicion  held  by  them. 

‘‘No,"  he  said,  as  if  in  answer  to  a spoken 
charge,  “I  am  not  insane.  I never  was  more 
calm.  I am  in  possession  of  all  my  faculties. 
But  I have  looked  into  the  Face  of  Eternity 
this  night  and  I know,  I know  that  in  seven 
days  God  will  require  my  soul.  Mary,"  he 
turned  to  his  wife  with  the  most  beseeching 
cry,  “Mary,  do  you  believe  me?" 

She  looked  into  her  husband's  face  and 


46  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

saw  there  the  old  look.  Reason,  the  noblest 
of  all  gifts,  shone  out  of  that  noble  face  now 
lighted  up  with  the  old  love,  and  standing  on 
the  brink  of  the  other  world.  And  Mrs. 
Hardy,  looking  her  husband  in  the  face,  re- 
plied : 

''Yes,  Robert;  I believe  you.  You  may  be 
mistaken  in  this  impression  about  the  time 
left  you  to  live,  but  you  are  not  insane.'’ 

"O  God,  I thank  thee  for  that!"  cried  Mr. 
Hardy. 

Often  during  the  most  remarkable  week 
he  ever  lived  Mr.  Hardy  reposed  in  that  im- 
plicit belief  of  his  wife  in  his  sanity. 

There  was  a pause.  Then  Mr.  Hardy  asked 
George  to  bring  the  Bible.  He  then  read 
from  John's  Gospel  that  matchless  prayer  of 
Christ  in  the  seventeenth  chapter;  and  then 
kneeling  down,  he  prayed  as  he  had  never 
prayed  before,  that  in  the  week  allotted  him 
to  live  he  might  know  how  to  bless  the  world 
and  serve  his  Master  best.  And  when  he 
arose  and  looked  about  upon  his  wife  and 
children,  it  was  with  the  look  of  one  who 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  47 

has  been  into  the  very  presence  chamber  of 
the  only  living  God.  At  the  same  moment, 
so  fast  had  the  time  gone  in  the  excitement, 
the  clock  upon  the  mantel  struck  the  hour 
of  midnight— and  the  first  of  Robert  Hardy’s 
seven  days  had  begun! 


CHAPTER  III. 

n 

When  Mr.  Hardy  woke  on  the  morning 
of  the  first  of  the  seven  days  left  him  to 
live,  he  was  on  the  point  of  getting  ready  for 
his  day’s  business,  as  usual,  when  the  mem- 
ory of  his  dream  flashed  upon  him  and  he 
was  appalled  to  decide  what  he  should  do 
first.  Breakfast  was  generally  a hurried  and 
silent  meal  with  him.  The  children  usually 
came  straggling  down  at  irregular  intervals, 
and  it  was  very  rare  that  the  family  all  sat 
down  together.  This  morning  Mr.  Hardy 
waited  until  all  had  appeared,  and  while  they 
were  eating  he  held  a family  council. 

His  wife  was  evidently  in  great  excitement 
and  anxiety,  and  yet  the  love  and  tenderness 
she  felt  Coming  back  to  her  from  her  husband 
gave  her  face  a look  of  beauty  that  had  been 
a stranger  to  it  for  years. 

The  children  were  affected  by  their  father’s 
remarkable  change  in  various  ways.  George 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  49 

was  sullen  and  silent.  Will  looked  thought- 
ful and  troubled.  Alice,  a girl  of  very  strong 
and  decided  opinions  and  character,  greeted 
her  father  with  a kiss  and  seemed  to  under- 
stand the  new  relations  he  now  sustained  to 
them  all.  Clara  appeared  terrified,  as  if  death 
had  already  come  into  the  house,  and  several 
times  she  broke  down  crying  at  the  table,  and 
finally  went  away  into  the  sitting  room.  Bess 
sat  next  to  her  father,  as  she  always  did,  and 
was  the  most  cheerful  of  all,  taking  a very 
calm  and  philosophical  view  of  the  situation, 
so  that  Mr.  Hardy  smiled  once  or  twice  as 
she  gave  her  advice. 

Mr.  Hardy  was  pale  but  calm.  The  im- 
pression of  the  night  before  was  evidently 
deepening  with.him.  It  would  have  been  ab- 
surd to  call  him  insane.  His  wife  was  obliged 
to  confess  to  herself  that  he  had  never  ap- 
peared more  sound  in  judgment  and  calm  in 
speech.  He  was  naturally  a man  of  very 
strong  will.  Hi^  passions,  as  we  have  al- 
ready seen,  were  under  control.  Never  in  all 
his  life  had  he  felt  so  self-contained,  so  free 


50  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

from  nervousness,  so  capable  of  sustained  ef- 
fort. But  the  one  great  thought  that  filled 
his  mind  was  the  thought  of  the  shortness  of 
the  time. 

'‘Almighty  God,'^  was  his  prayer,  "show 
me  how  to  use  these  seven  days  in  the  wisest 
and  best  manner.'' 

"Robert,  what  will  you  do  to-day?"  asked 
Mrs.  Hardy. 

"I  have  been  thinking,  dear,  and  I believe 
my  first  duty  is  to  God.  We  have  not  had 
morning  worship  together  for  a long  time. 
After  we  have  knelt  as  a family  in  prayer  to 
Him,  I believe  He  will  give  me  wisdom  to 
know  what  I ought  to  do." 

"I  think  father  ought  to  stay  at  home  with 
us  all  the  time,"  said  Bess. 

"Robert,"  said  Mrs.  Hardy,  who  could  not 
comprehend  the  full  meaning  of  the  situation 
much  better  than  little  Bess,  "will  you  give 
up  your  business?  How  can  you  attend  to 
it?  Will  you  have  the  strength  and  the  pa- 
tience while  laboring  under  this  impression  ?" 

"I  have  already  thought  over  that.  Yes ; 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  51 

I believe  I ought  to  go  right  on.  I don't  see 
what  would  be  gained  by  severing  my  con- 
nection with  the  company." 

''Will  you  tell  the  company  you  have  only 

" Mt*s.  Hardy  could  not  say  the  words. 

They  choked  her. 

"What  would  you  do,  Alice?"  asked  her 
father,  turning  to  his  oldest  daughter,  who, 
although  a cripple,  had  more  than  once  re- 
vealed to  the  family  great  powers  of  judg- 
ment and  decision. 

"I  would  not  say  anything  to  the  company 
about  it,"  replied  Alice  finally. 

"That  is  the  way  I feel,"  said  Mr.  Hardy 
with  a nod  of  approval.  "They  would  not 
understand  it.  My  successor  in  the  office 
will  be  young  Wellman,  in  all  probability,  and 
he  is  perfectly  competent  to  carry  on  the 
work.  I feel  as  if  this  matter  were  one  that 
belonged  to  the  family.  I shall,  of  course,  ar- 
range my  business  affairs  with  reference  to 
the  situation,  and  George  can  give  me  half  a 
day  for  the  details.  But  you  know,  Mary,  I 
have  always  kept  my  business  in  such  shape 


52  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

that  in  any  case  of  accident  or  sudden  death 
matters  could  easily  be  arranged.  Thank  God ! 
I shall  not  have  to  take  time  for  those  mat- 
ters that  I ought  to  give  to  more  serious  and 
important  duties.’’ 

It  was  true  that  Mr.  Hardy,  always  a man 
of  very  methodical  habits  in  a business  way, 
had  always  arranged  his  affairs  with  refer- 
ence to  accidental  removal.  His  business  as 
manager  necessitated  his  being  on  the  road  a 
great  deal,  and  he  realized,  as  many  railroad 
men  do  realize,  the  liability  of  sudden  death. 

But  such  a thought  had  not  had  any  influ- 
ence on  his  actions  to  make  him  less  selfish. 
He  had  thought,  as  all  men  do,  that  he  should 
probably  live  right  along  after  all ; that  death 
might  take  the  engineer  or  conductor  or  fire- 
man, but  would  pass  him  by. 

Suddenly  Will  spoke  up : ‘‘Father,  do  you 
want  George  and  me  to  leave  college?” 

“Certainly  not,  my  boy.  What  would  be 
gained  by  that?  I want  you  to  keep  right 
on  just  as  if  I were  going  to  live  fifty  years 


more. 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  53 

George  did  not  say  anything.  He  looked 
at  his  father  as  if  he  doubted  his  sanity. 

His  father  noticed  the  look  and  a terrible 
wave  of  anguish  swept  over  him  as  he  re- 
called the  part  of  his  vision  in  which  he  had 
seen  his  oldest  son  in  the  gambling  room. 

Again  the  prayer  he  had  been  silently 
praying  all  the  morning  went  up  out  of  his 
heart : ''Almighty  God,  show  me  how  to  use 
the  seven  days  most  wisely.^’ 

"Father/'  said  Bess  suddenly,  "what  will  . 
you  do  about  Jim  and  Clara?  Did  you  know 
they  were  engaged?" 

"Bess!"  said  Clara,  passionately.  Then 
she  stopped  suddenly,  and  seeing  her  father's 
brow  grow  dark,  she  cowered,  afraid  of  what 
was  coming. 

But  Mr.  Hardy  looked  at  the  world  dif- 
ferently this  morning.  Twenty-four  hours 
before  he  would  have  treated  Bessie's  remark 
as  he  usually  treated  her  surprising  revela- 
tions of  the  secrets  of  the  family.  He  would 
have  laughed  at  it  a little,  and  sternly  com- 


54  Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days. 

<* 

mandecl  Clara  to  break  the  engagement,  if 
there  was  one,  at  once:  for  James  Caxton 
was  not  at  all  the  sort  of  man  Mr.  Hardy 
wanted  to  have  come  into  the  family.  He 
was  poor,  to  begin  with,  and,  more  than  all, 
his  father  had  been  the  means  of  defeating 
MVi  Hardy  in  a municipal  election  where  a 
place  of  influence  and  honor  was  in  dispute. 
Mr.  Hardy  had  never  forgotten  or  forgiven 
it.  When  he  began  to  see  his  children  inti- 
mate with  the  Caxtons,  he  tried  to  forbid 
their  going  to  the  house,  with  the  result  al- 
ready described. 

Mr.  Hardy  looked  at  Clara  and  said  very 
tenderly:  '‘Clara,  we  must  have  a good  talk 
about  this.  You  know  your  father  loves  you 

and  wants  you  to  be  happy  and Mr. 

Hardy  stopped  in  his  emotion,  and  Clara 
burst  into  tears  and  left  the  table. 

"Come,’'  cried  Mr.  Hardy,  after  a moment, 
during  which  no  one  seemed  inclined  to 
speak ; "let  us  ask  God  to  give  us  all  wisdom 
at  this  time.” 

George  made  a motion  as  if  to  go  out. 


Robert  Hardy s Seven  Days,  55 

‘'My  son/'  called  Mr.  Hardy  after  him, 
gently,  “won't  you  stay  with  the  rest  of  us?" 

George  sat  down  with  a shamefaced  look, 
Alice  and  Clara  came  back,  and  Mr.  Hardy 
read  that  famous  sixth  chapter  of  Ephesians 
beginning,  “Children,  obey  your  parents  in 
the  Lord."  Then  in  a brief  but  earnest  prayer 
he  asked  God's  help  and  blessing  on  all  the 
day,  and  rose  to  face  it,  the  great  burden 
of  his  responsibility  beginning  to  rest  upon 
him  for  the  first  time.  He  sat  down  for  a 
moment  by  his  wife  and  kissed  her,  putting 
his  arms  about  her,  while  Bess  climbed  up  on 
the  side  of  the  couch  and  the  boys  stood  ir- 
resolute and  wondering.  Any  outward  mark 
of  affection  was  so  unusual  on  the  part  of 
their  father  that  they  felt  awkward  in  the 
presence  of  it.  Mrs.  Hardy  was  almost  over- 
come. 

“O  Robert,  I cannot  bear  it ! Surely  it  was 
nothing  more  than  a dream.  It  couldn't  have 
been  anything  more.  You  are  not  going  to 
be  called  away  from  us  so  soon." 


56  Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days. 

“Mary,  I would  God  that  I had  seven  years 
to  atone  for  my  neglect  and  selfishness  to- 
ward you  alone.  But  I am  certain  that  God 
has  granted  me  but  seven  days.  I must  act. 
God  help  me!  Boys,  you  will  be  late.  We 
will  all  be  at  home  this  evening.  Alice,  care 
for  your  mother  and  cheer  her  up.  You  are 
a good  girl  and ” 

Again  Mr.  Hardy  broke  down  as  he 
thought  of  the  many  years  he  had  practically 
ignored  this  brave,  strong,  uncomplaining 
nature  in  his  own  house,  and  remorse  tore 
him  fiercely  as  he  recalled  how  he  had  prac- 
tically discouraged  all  the  poor' girl’s  ambi- 
tious efforts  to  make  her  way  as  an  artist,  not 
on  account  of  the  expense — for  Mr.  Hardy 
was  not  a niggard  in  that  respect — ^but  be- 
cause he  had  a false  idea  concerning  the  pro- 
fession. He  looked  at  the  girl  now  as  she 
limped  across  the  floor  to  her  mother,  her 
pale,  intellectual  face  brightened  by  her  love 
and  her  eyes  shining  with  tears  at  her  fa- 
ther’s unusual  praise.  “O  God,”  was  the  in- 
ner cry  of  Mr.  Hardy’s  heart,  “what  have  I 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  57 

not  neglected  when  I had  it  in  my  power  to 
create  so  much  happiness  I” 

The  thought  almost  unnerved  him;  and 
for  a moment  he  felt  like  sitting  down  to  do 
nothing.  But  only  for  a moment.  He  rose 
briskly,  went  out  into  the  hall  and  put  on  his 
overcoat,  and  coming  back  a moment  said, 
‘T  am  going  down  to  see  poor  Scoville  the 
first  thing.  I shall  be  so  busy  you  must  not 
look  for  me  at  lunch.  But  I will  be  back  to 
six  o’clock  dinner.  Good-by !”  He  kissed  his 
wife  tenderly  and  she  clung  to  him  sobbing. 
Then  he  kissed  his  daughters,  a thing  he  had 
not  done  since  they  were  babies,  and  shook 
hands  with  the  boys  and  marched  out  like 
one  going  to  execution,  something  bright 
glistening  in  his  own  eyes. 

Ah ! ye  fathers  and  husbands,  you  who  are 
toiling  for  the  dear  ones  at  home,  how  many 
of  you  have  grown  so  unaccustomed  to  the 
tender  affections  of  home  that  your  own  wife 
would  almost  faint  and  think  something  was 
going  to  happen  to  you  if  you  kissed  her 
good-by  when  you  went  away  to  your  work 


58  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

in  the  morning ! How  do  you  know  that  she 
who  has  been  your  faithful  friend  and  lover 
all  these  years,  and  nursed  you  through 
peevish  sickness  and  done  a thousand  things 
every  day  for  you  without  so  much  as  a word 
of  thanks  or  praise  on  your  part — how  do 
you  know  she  does  not  care  for  these  demon- 
strations of  affection?  And  if  she  does  not, 
how  does  it  happen  except  through  neglect? 
Call  it  not  a little  thing.  It  is  of  such  little 
things  that  heaven  is  made,  and  it  is  of  the 
home  where  such  little  things  are  found  that 
it  can  truly  be  said,  'Xove  is  master,  and  the 
evil  one  cannot  find  an  entrance  to  blot  with 
his  foul  tread  the  sweetest  thing  on  earth.” 

Mr.  Hardy  hurried  down  toward  the  tene- 
ment where  Ward  Scoville  lived,  revolving 
in  his  mind  as  he  went  along  plans  for  his 
future  happiness  and  comfort. 

*T11  deed  him  the  place  where  he  lives  and 
arrange  it  in  some  way  so  that  he  won’t  have 
to  go  to  the  hospital  or  come  on  the  county 
when  his  poor  wife  is  gone.  It  will  be  the 


Robert  Hardyh  Seven  Days.  59 

best  I can  do  for  him.  Poor  fellow!  What 
a shame  I did  not  come  down  last  night ! And 
his  wife  a hopeless  invalid  and  the  oldest 
child  only  four  years  old,  Mary  said  V* 

He  was  surprised  as  he  drew  near  the 
house  to  see  a group  of  men  standing  there 
outside  and  talking  together  earnestly.  As 
Mr.  Hardy  came  up  they  stood  aside  to  let 
him  pass,  but  were  barely  civil. 

‘‘Well,  Stevens,''  Mr.  Hardy  inquired  of 
one  of  the  men,  recognizing  him  as  one  of 
the  employees  in  the  casting  room,  “how  is 
Scoville  this  morning?" 

“Dead!" 

Mr.  Hardy  reeled  as  if  struck  in  the  breast 
with  a heavy  blow. 

“Dead,  did  you  say?" 

“He  died  about  an  hour  ago,"  said  one  of 
the  other  men.  “The  surgeon  was  late  in 
getting  around,  and  after  the  amputation  it 
was  ascertained  that  Scoville  had  received 
severe  internal  injuries." 

“Was  he  conscious?"  Mr.  Hardy  asked 


6o  Robert  HardyPs  Seven  Days. 

the  question  mechanically,  but  all  the  while 
his  mind  was  in  a whirl  of  remorse. 

‘‘Yes ; up  to  the  last  moment.’’ 

Mr.  .Hardy  went  up  to  the  door  and 
knocked.  A woman,  one  of  the  neighbors, 
opened  it  and  he  went  in.  The  sight  stunned 
him.  The  dead  man  had  been  removed  to  a 
rear  room,  but  his  wife  lay  upon  the  very 
same  ragged  lounge  Mr.  Hardy  had  seen  in 
his  dream.  The  surgeon  was  bending  over 
her.  The  room  was  full  of  neighbors. 

The  surgeon  suddenly  arose  and,  turning 
about,  spoke  in  a quiet  but  decided  tone: 

“Now,  then,  good  people,  just  go  home, 
will  you,  for  a while!  And  suppose  some 
of  you  take  these  children  along  with  you. 
You  can’t  do  anything  more  now  and  your 
presence  disturbs  the  woman ! Ah,  Mr. 
Hardy!”  he  exclaimed,  seeing  the  manager, 
^'you  here?  This  is  a sad  business.  Come, 
now,  ladies,  I must  ask  you  to  retire.” 
Everybody  went  out  except  the  surgeon, 
the  poor  woman’s  sister,  and  Mr.  Hardy.  He 


Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days.  6i 

drew  the  surgeon  over  to  the  window  and  in- 
quired concerning  the  particulars.  Mr. 
Hardy  had  received  a shock  at  the  very  first 
and  he  trembled  violently. 

‘‘Well,  you  see,’’  explained  the  surgeon, 
“Scoville  was  a dead  man  from  the  minute  of 
the  accident.  Nothing  could  have  saved  him. 
When  the  accident  happened  I was  down  at 
Bayville  attending  the  men  who  were  in- 
jured in  the  wreck  last  Saturday.  I tele- 
graphed that  I would  come  at  once.  But 
there  was  a delay  on  the  road,  and  I did  not 
get  here  until  three  o’clock  in  the  morning. 
Meanwhile  everything  had  been  done  that 
was  possible.  But  nothing  could  save  the 
poor  fellow.  This  shock  will  kill  his  wife. 
I doubt  if  she  lives  through  the  day.” 

“What  will  be  done  with  the  children?’^ 
Mr.  Hardy  asked  the  question  mechanically, 
again  feeling  the  need  of  time  to  think  out 
what  was  best  to  be  done.  The  surgeon 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  was  accustomed 
to  scenes  of  suffering  and  distress  continu- 
ally. 


6z  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

^'Orphans'  Home,  I suppose,’'  he  replied, 
laconically. 

A movement  and  a moan  from  the  woman 
called  him  to  her  side,  and  Mr.  Hardy,  left 
alone,  he  thought  a moment,  then  stepped 
over  to  the  surgeon  and  asked  him  if  he  could 
go  into  the  other  room  and  see  the  dead  man. 
The  surgeon  nodded  a surprised  assent,  and 
Mr.  Hardy  stepped  into  the  rear  room  and 
closed  the  door.  He  drew  back  the  sheet 
from  the  face  of  the  man  and  looked  down 
upon  it.  Nothing  in  all  his  experience  had 
ever  moved  him  so  deeply.  The  features  of 
the  dead  man  were  fixed,  it  seemed  to  him, 
in  an  expression  of  despair.  Mr.  Hardy 
gazed  steadily  upon  it  for  half  a minute,  then 
replacing  the  sheet  he  kneeled  down  by  the 
side  of  the  rude  bed  and  prayed  God  for 
mercy.  Lord,”  he  groaned  in  his  remorse, 
“lay  not  the  death  of  this  man  to  my  charge !” 
Yet,  even  as  he  prayed,  he  could  not  drive 
back  the  thought  which  chased  across  the 
prayer,  “I  am  this  man’s  murderer.  I issued 
the  order  compelling  the  Sunday  work.  I re- 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  63 

fused  a week  ago  to  inspect  the  retorts  which 
were  declared  unsafe,  on  the  ground  that  it 
v/as  not  my  business.  I compelled  this  man 
to  work  under  the  fear  of  losing  his  place  if 
he  refused  to  work.  I compelled  him  to  work 
on  the  one  day  in  which  God  has  commanded 
all  men  to  rest.  I,  a Christian  by  profession, 
a member  of  the  church,,  a man  of  means — I 
put  this  man  in  deadly  peril  upon  a Sunday 
in  order  that  more  money  might  be  made  and 
more  human  selfishness  might  be  gratified.  I 
did  it.  x\nd  this  man  once  saved  my  life.  I 
am  his  murderer,  and  no  murderer  shall  in- 
herit the  kingdom  of  God.’’ 

So  the  wretched  man  prayed  there  by  the 
side  of  that  cold  body.  Yet  the  world  to-day 
goes  on  with  men  in  high  places  who  have  it 
in  their  power  to  change  the  conditions  that 
exact  Sunday  labor  from  thousands  of  weary 
men  and  drive  the  commerce  of  the  world 
across  the  continent  at  the  cost  of  that  price- 
less thing,  the  soul  of  man,  in  order  that  the 
owners  of  railroad  stock  and  the  men  who 
get  their  salaried  living  from  it  may  have 


64  Robert  HardyPs  Seven  Days. 

more  money.  What ! is  it  not  true  that  every 
Sunday  in  this  land  of  Christian  homes  and 
hearts  many  and  many  a well-fed,  sleek,  self- 
satisfied,  well-dressed  man,  with  a high  sal- 
ary and  well-established  social  position,  with 
a luxurious  home  and  money  in  the  bank, 
goes  to  church  and  sits  down  in  a softly 
cushioned  pew  to  listen  to  the  preaching  of 
the  gospel,  while  within  hearing  distance  of 
the  services  an  express  train  or  a freight 
thunders  by  upon  the  road  which  declares  the 
dividends  that  make  that  man’s  wealth  possi- 
ble? On  those  trains  are  groups  of  coal-be- 
grimed human  beings  who  never  go  inside  a 
church,  who  never  speak  the  name  of  God  or 
Christ  except  in  an  oath,  who  lead  lives  that 
are  as  destitute  of  spiritual  nourishment  as  a 
desert  of  sand  and  rocks,  and  who  are  com- 
pelled to  labor  contrary  to  God’s  everlasting 
law  of  rest,  in  order  that  man  may  have  more 
to  feed  his  body  and  indulge  his  passions! 
Do  not  tell  us  it  is  necessary  labor.  It  is  la- 
bor for  the  making  of  more  money.  It  does 
not  need  to  be  done.  The  community  could 


Robert  Hardy s Seven  Days.  65 

dispense  with  it ; and  in  the  .sight  of  God  it 
is  a wicked  use  of  human  flesh  and  blood  and 
souls ; and  the  starved  spiritual  natures  of 
these  men  will  come  up  at  the  Judgment  Day 
before  the  men  who  had  it  in  their  power  to 
say,  ‘‘Not  a wheel  shall  turn  on  these  tracks 
Sunday,  even  if  we  don’t  make  a little  more 
money,”  Money  or  souls ! Which  is  worth 
more  in  the  thought  of  the  railroad  corpora- 
tion? Let  the  facts  make  answer. 

Mr.  Hardy  did  not  know  just  how  long  he 
kneeled  there  in  that  bare  room.  At  last  he 
arose  weariedly  and  came  out ; but  his  prayer 
had  not  refreshed  him.  The  surgeon  glanced 
at  him  inquisitively  but  asked  no  questions. 
The  sick  woman  was  in  a state  of  semi-con- 
sciousness. Mr.  Hardy^s  cook,  her  sister,  sat 
listlessly  and  worn  out  by  the  side  of  the 
lounge.  The  surgeon  rapidly  gave  directions 
for  the  use  of  some  medicine  and  prepared  to 
go.  Some  of  the  neighbors  called  and  the 
surgeon  let  two  of  the  women  come  in.  Just 
as  the  two-  men  were  going  out  together,  Mr. 
Hardy  still  absorbed  in  his  great  desire  to  do 


66  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

something  of  importance  for  the  mother  and 
her  children,  his  minister,  Mr.  Jones,  ap- 
peared. 

He  looked  surprised  at  seeing  Mr.  Hardy, 
inquired  the  news  of  the  doctor,  and  at  once 
asked  if  he  could  see  the  poor  widow.  The 
doctor  thought  it  would  do  no  harm.  Mr. 
Jones  whispered  to  Mr.  Hardy: 

''She  was  a faithful  member  of  our  church, 
you  know.’' 

Mr.  Hardy  did  not  know  it,  to  his  shame, 
he  confessed.  This  sister  of  his  in  Christ 
had  been  a member  of  the  same  church  and 
he  had  not  even  known  it.  If  she  had  hap- 
pened to  sit  on  the  same  side  of  the  build- 
ing where  he  sat,  he  would  probably  have 
wondered  who  that  plain-looking  person  was, 
dressed  so  poorly.  But  she  had  always  sat 
back  on  the  other  side,  being  one  of  a few 
poor  women  who  had  been  attracted  into  the 
church  and  been  comforted  by  Mr.  Jones^ 
simple  piety  and  prayers. 

The  minister  kneeled  down  and  said  a gen- 
tle word  to  the  woman.  Then  as  if  in  reply 


Robert  Hardy* s Seven  Days,  67 

to  a low-voiced  request  he  began  a prayer 
of  remarkable  beauty  and  comfort.  Mr. 
Hardy  wondered,  as  he  listened,  that  he  could 
ever  have  thought  this  man  dull  in  the  pulpit. 
He  sat  down  and  sobbed  as  the  prayer  went 
on  and  took  to  himself  the  consolation  of  that 
heavenly  petition.  When  Mr.  Jones  rose, 
Mr.  Hardy  still  sat  with  his  hands  over  his 
face.  The  surgeon  was  called  out  by  some 
one.  Then  the  minister,  after  making  ar- 
rangements with  the  women  who  had  come 
in  for  the  funeral  of  Scoville,  started  to  go 
out,  when  Mr.  Hardy  rose  and  they  went 
away  together. 

‘'Mr.  Jones,'’  said  Mr.  Hardy  as  they 
walked  along,  ‘T  have  an  explanation  and  a 
confession  to  make.  I haven't  time  to  make 
it  now,  but  I want  to  say  that  I have  met  God 
face  to  face  within  the  past  twenty-four 
hours,  and  I am  conscious  for  the  first  time 
in  years  of  the  intensely  selfish  life  I have 
lived.  I need  your  prayers  and  help.  And  I 
want  to  serve  the  church  and  do  my  duty 
there  as  I have  never  before  done  it.  I have 


68  Robert  Hardy s Seven  Days, 

not  supported  your  work  as  I should.  I want 
you  to  think  of  me  this  week  as  ready  to  help 
in  anything  in  my  power.  Will  you  accept 
my  apology  for  my  contempt  of  your  request 
a week  ago?  I will  come  into  the  meeting 
Thursday  night  and  help  in  any  way  possi- 
ble.^’ 

Mr.  Jones’  eyes  filled  with  tears.  He 
grasped  Mr.  Hardy’s  hand  and  said  simply, 
''Brother,  God  bless  you!  Let  me  be  of 
service  to  you  in  any  way  I can.” 

Mr.  Hardy  felt  a little  better  for  the  par- 
tial confession,  and  parted  with  his  minister 
at  the  next  corner,  going  down  to  his  office. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


It  was  now  ten  o'clock  and  the  day 
seemed  to  him  cruelly  brief  for  the  work 
he  had  to  do.  He  entered  the  office,  and  al- 
most the  first  thing  he  saw  on  his  desk  was 
the  following  letter,  addressed  to  him,  but 
written  in  a disguised  hand: 

Mr.  Hardy — Us  in  the  casting  room  don't 
need  no  looking  after,  but  maybe  the  next  pot 
of  hot  iron  that  explodes  will  be  next  the 
offis  if  you  thinks  we  have  bodies  but  no  sols 
some  morning  you  will  wake  up  beleving  an- 
other thing.  We  ain't  so  easy  led  as  sum 
supposes.  Better  look  to  house  and  employ 
spesul  patrol ; if  you  do  we  will  blak  his  face 
for  him. 

There  was  no  signature  to  this  threatening 
scrawl,  which  was  purposely  misspelled  and 


70  Robert  Hardy'^s  Seven  Days, 

ungrammatically  composed.  Mr.  Hardy  had 
received  threats  before  and  paid  little  atten- 
tion to  them.  He  prided  himself  on  his  steady 
nerves  and  his  contempt  of  all  such  methods 
used  to  sckre  him.  Only  a coward,  he  rea- 
soned, would  ever  write  an  anonymous  letter 
of  such  a character.  > Still,  this  morning  he 
felt  disturbed.  His  peculiar  circumstances 
made  the  whole  situation  take  on  a more 
vivid  coloring.  Besides  all  that,  he  could  not 
escape  the  conviction  that  he  was  in  a cer- 
tain sense  responsible  for  the  accident  in  the 
casting  room.  It  was  not  his  particular  busH 
ness  to  inspect  machinery.  But  his  attention 
had  been  called  to  it,  and  he  felt  now  as  if  he 
had  been  criminally  careless  in  not  making 
the  inspection  in  the  absence  of  the  regular 
officer.  An  investigation  of  the  accident 
would  free  Mr.  Hardy  from  legal  responsi- 
bility. But  in  the  sight  of  God  he  felt  that  he 
was  morally  guilty.  At  this  moment  Mr. 
Burns  came  in.  He  looked  sullen  and  spoke 
in  a low  tone : 

''Only  half  the  men  are  back  this  morning, 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days,  71 

sir.  Scoville's  death  and  the  injuries  of  the 
others  have  had  a bad  effect  on  the  men.'' 

Mr.  Hardy  crumpled  the  letter  nervously 
in  his  hand. 

''Mr.  Burns,  I would  like  to  apologize  to 
you  for  my  neglect  of  the  injured  men.  Who 
are  they,  and  how  badly  are  they  hurt  ?" 

Burns  looked  surprised,  but  made  answer^ 
describing  briefly  the  accidents.  Mr.  Hardy 
listened  intently  with  bowed  head.  At  last 
he  looked  up  and  said  abruptly : 

"Come  into  the  casting  room." 

They  went  out  of  the  office,  passed  • 
through  the  repairing  shops,  and  entered  the 
foundry  department.  Even  on  that  bright 
winter  morning,  with  the  air  outside  so  clear 
and  cool,  the  atmosphere  in  this  place  was 
murky  and  close.  The  forges  in  the  black- 
smith room  at  the  farther  end  glowed 
through  the  smoke  and  dust  like  smoldering 
piles  of  rubbish  dumped  here  and  there  by 
chance  upon  some  desolate  moor  and  stirred 
by  ill-omened  demons  of  the  nether  world. 
Mr.  Hardy  shuddered  as  he  thought  of 


72  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

standing  in  such  an  atmosphere  all  day  to 
work  at  severe  muscular  toil.  He  recalled 
with  sharp  vividness  a request  made  only 
two  months  before  for  dust  fans  which  had 
proved  successful  in  other  shops,  and  which 
would  remove  a large  part  of  the  heavy,  coal- 
laden air,  supplying  fresh  air  in  its  place.  The 
company  had  refused  the  request,  and  had 
even  said  through  one  of  its  officers  that 
when  the  men  wore  out  the  company  could 
easily  get  more. 

Mr.  Hardy  and  the  foreman  paused  at  the 
entrance  to  the  casting  room  where  the  men 
had  been  injured  the  day  before.  A few  men 
were  working  sullenly.  Mr.  Hardy  asked  the 
foreman  to  call  the  men  together  near  the 
other  end  of  the  room;  he  wanted  to  say 
something  to  them.  He  walked  over  there 
while  the  foreman  spoke  to  the  men.  They 
dropped  their  tools  and  came  over  to  where 
Mr.  Hardy  was  standing.  They  were  mostly 
Scandinavians  and  Germans,  with  a sprink- 
ling of  Irish  and  Americans.  Mr.  Hardy 
looked  at  them  thoughtfully.  They  were  a 


Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days.  73 

hard-looking  crowd.  Then  he  said,  very 
slowly  and  distinctly: 

‘'You  may  quit  work  until  after  Scoville's 
funeral.  The  machinery  here  needs  overhaul- 

The  men  stood  impassive  for  a moment. 
Finallv  a big  Dane  stepped  up  and  said: 

“We  be  no  minded  to  quit  work  these 
times.  We  no  can  afford  it.  Give  us  work 
in  some  other  place.'’ 

Mr.  Hardy  looked  at  him  and  replied 
quietly : 

“The  wages  will  go  on  just  the  same  while 
you  are  out." 

There  was  a perceptible  stir  among  the 
men.  They  looked  confused  and  incredulous. 
Mr.  Hardy  still  looked  at  them  thoughtfully. 

Finally  the  big  Dane  stepped  forward 
again  and  said,  speaking  more  respectfully 
than  he  did  at  first : 

“Mr.  Hardy,  we  be  thinking  maybe  you 
would  like  to  help  towards  him  the  family 
of  the  dead  and  others  as  be  hurt.  I been 
'pointed  to  take  up  purse  for  poor  fellows  in- 


74  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days, 

jured.  We  all  take  hand  in’t.  My  brother  be 
one  lose  his  two  eyes/’ 

A tear  actually  rolled  down  the  grimy 
cheek  of  the  big  fellow  and  dropped  into  the 
coal-dust  at  his  feet.  Mr.  Hardy  realized 
that  he  was  looking  at  a brother  man.  He 
choked  down  a sob,  and  putting  his  hand  in 
his  pocket  pulled  out  all  the  change  he  had 
and  poured  it  into  the  Dane’s  hand.  Then 
seeing  that  it  was  only  four  or  five  dollars, 
be  pulled  out  his  purse  and  emptied  that  of 
its  bills,  while  Burns,  the  foreman,  and  all  the 
men  looked  on  in  stupefied  wonder. 

‘^No,  no  thanks ! I’ll  do  something  more.” 

Mr.  Hardy  walked  away,  feeling  as  if  the 
ground  were  heavy  under  him.  What  was 
all  his  money  compared  with  that  life  which 
had  been  sacrificed  in  that  gas-poisoned 
sepulcher!  He  could  not  banish  from  his 
mind  the  picture  of  that  face  as  it  looked  to 
him  when  he  drew  back  the  sheet  and  looked 
at  it. 

He  hurried  back  to  the  office  through  the 
yard  and  sat  down  at  the  well-worn  desk. 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  75 

The  mail  had  come  in  and  half  a dozen  let- 
ters lay  there.  What  did  it  all  amount  to, 
this  grind  of  business,  when  the  heartache 
of  the  world  called  for  so  much  sympathy  ! 
Then  over  him  came  the  sense  of  his  obliga- 
tions to  his  family : Clara's  need  of  a father's 
help ; George  going  to  the  bad ; Alice  in  need 
of  sympathy;  his  wife  weeping  even  now  at 
home;  the  church  and  Sunday-school  where 
he  had  been  of  so  little  use ; the  family  of 
Scoville  to  be  provided  for ; the  other  injured 
men  to  be  visited ; improvements  for  the  wel- 
fare of  the  men  in  the  shops  to  be  looked 
after;  and  the  routine  of  his  business — all 
these  things  crowded  in  upon  him,  and  still 
he  saw  the  face  and  heard  the  voice  of  Eter- 
nity: ‘'Seven  days  more  to  live!" 

He  sank  into  a reverie  for  a moment.  He 
was  roused  by  the  sounding  of  the  noon 
whistle.  What,  noon  already?  So  swiftly 
had  the  time  gone!  He  turned  to  his  desk, 
bewildered,  and  picked  up  his  letters,  glanced 
over  them  hurriedly,  and  then  gave  directions 
for  the  answers  of  some  of  them  to  his  im- 


76  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

patient  clerk,  who  had  been  wondering  at 
his  employer’s  strange  behavior  this  morn- 
ing. Among  the  letters  was  one  which  made 
his  cheek  burn  wdth  self-reproach.  It  was  an 
invitation  to  a club  dinner  to  be  given  that 
evening  in  honor  of  some  visiting  railroad 
president. 

It  was  just  such  an  occasion  as  he  had  en- 
joyed very  many  times  before,  and  the  recol- 
lection brought  to  mind  the  number  of  times 
he  had  gone  away  from  his  own  home  and 
left  his  wife  sitting  drearily  by  the  fire.  How 
could  he  have  done  it  ! He  tossed  the  gilded 
invitation  fiercely  into  the  waste  basket,  and 
rising,  walked  his  room,  thinking,  thinking. 
He  had  so  much  to  do  and  so  little  time  to  do 
it  in ! He  thought  thus  a moment,  then  went 
out  and  walked  rapidly  over  to  the  hotel 
V'here  he  was  in  the  habit  of  getting  lunch 
when  he  did  not  go  home.  He  ate  a little, 
hurriedly,  and  then  hastened  out. 

As  he  was  going  out  upon  the  sidewalk 
two  young  men  came  in  and  jostled  against 
him.  They  were  smoking  and  talking  in  a 


Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days,  77 

loud  tone.  Mr.  Hardy  caught  the  sound  of 
his  own  name.  He  looked  at  the  speaker,  and 
it  was  the  face  of  the  young  man  he  had  seen 
ill  his  dream,  the  one  who  had  insulted 
George  and  struck  him  afterwards.  For  a 
moment  Mr.  Hardy  was  tempted  to  confront 
the  youth  and  inquire  into  his  son's  habits. 

''No,"  he  said  to  himself,  after  a pause;  "I 
will  have  a good  talk  with  George  himself. 
That  will  be  the  best." 

He  hurried  back  to  the  office  and  arranged 
some  necessary  work  for  his  clerk,  took  a 
walk  through  the  other  office,  then  went,  to 
the  telephone  and  called  up  the  superintend- 
ent of  the  Sunday-school,  who  was  a book- 
keeper in  a clothing  house.  He  felt  an  in- 
tense desire  to  arrange  for  an  interview  with 
him  as  soon  as  possible.  Word  camq;.  back 
from  the  house  that  the  superintendent  had 
been  called  out  of  town  by  serious  illness  in 
his  old  home  and  would  not  be  back  until 
Saturday.  Mr.  Hardy  felt  a disappointment 
more  keen  than  the  occasion  seemed  to  war- 
rant. He  was  conscious  that  the  time  was 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 


very  brief.  He  had  fully  made  up  his  mind 
that  so  far  as  in  him  lay  he  would  redeem 
bis  selfish  past  and  make  a week  such  as  few 
men  ever  made.  He  was  just  beginning  to 
realize  that  circumstances  are  not  always  in 
our  control.  We  are  all  obliged  to  wait  for 
time  to  do  some  things.  We  cannot  redeem 
seven  years  of  selfishness  with  seven  days  of 
self-denial.  The  death  of  Scoville  revealed 
to  Mr.  Hardy  his  powerlessness  in  the  face 
of  certain  possibilities.  He  now  feared  that 
the  superintendent  would  fail  to  return  in 
time  to  let  him  confess  to  him  his  just  sorrow 
for  his  lack  of  service  in  the  school.  He  sat 
down  to  his  desk  and  under  that  impulse 
wrote  a letter  that  expressed  in  part  how  he 
felt.  Then  he  jotted  down  the  following  items 
to  be  referred  to  the  proper  authorities  of  the 
road : 

Item  I.  The  dust  in  the  blacksmith  shop 
and  in  the  brass-polishing  rooms  is  largely 
unnecessary.  The  new  Englefield  revolving 
rolling  fans  and  elevator  ought  to  be  intro- 
duced in  both  departments.  The  cost  will  be 


Robert  Hardyh  Seven  Days.  79 

but  an  item  to  the  road,  and  would  prolong 
the  life  and  add  to  the  comfort  of  the  em- 
ployes. Very  important. 

Item  2.  Organized  and  intelligent  effort 
should  be  made  by  all  railroad  corporations  to 
lessen  Sunday  work  in  shops  and  on  the  road. 
All  perishable  freight  should  be  so  handled 
as  to  call  for  the  services  of  as  few  men  on 
Sunday  as  possible,  and  excursion  and  pas- 
senger trains  should  be  discontinued,  except 
in  cases  of  unavoidable  necessity. 

Item  3.  The  inspection  of  boilers,  retorts, 
castings,  machinery  of  all  kinds  should  be 
made  by  thoroughly  competent  and  respon- 
sible men,  who  shall  answer  for  all  unneces- 
sary accidents  by  swift  and  severe  punish- 
ment in  case  of  loss  of  life  or  limb. 

Item  4.  In  case  of  injury  or  death  to  em- 
ployes, if  incurred  through  the  neglect  of  the 
company  to  provide  safety,  it  should  provide 
financial  relief  for  the  families  thus  injured, 
or  stricken  by  death,  and  so  far  as  possible 
arrange  for  their  future. 

Item  5.  Any  well-organized  railroad  could 


8o  Robert  Hardy'^s  Seven  Days. 

with  profit  to  its  employes  have  upon  its  staff 
of  salaried  men  a corps  of  chaplains  or 
preachers,  whose  business  it  would  be  to  look 
after  the  religious  interests  of  the  employes. 

Under  this  last  item  Mr.  Hardy  wrote  in  a 
footnote:  ‘'Discuss  feasibility  of  this  with 
Mr.  B , influential  director.'' 

It  was  now  three  o'clock.  The  short  win- 
ter day  was  fast  drawing  to  a close.  The 
hum  of  the  great  engine  in  the  machine  shop 
was  growing  very  wearisome  to  the  man- 
ager. He  felt  sick  of  its  throbbing  tremor 
and  longed  to  escape  from  it.  Ordinarily  he 
would  have  gone  to  the  club-room  and  had 
a game  of  chess  with  a member,  or  else  he 
would  have  gone  down  and  idled  away  an 
hour  or  two  before  supper  at  the  Art  Mu- 
seum, where  he  was  a constant  visitor,  that 
w^as  when  he  had  plenty  of  time  and  the 
business  of  the  office  was  not  pressing. 
Young  Wellman,  however,  had  succeeded  to 
the  clerical  details  of  the  shops,  and  Mr. 
Hardy's  time  was  generally  free  after  four. 

He  had  been  oppressed  with  the  thought 


Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days.  8i 


of  the  other  injured  men.  He  must  go  and 
see  them.  He  could  not  rest  till  he  had  per- 
sonally visited  them.  He  went  out  and  easily 
ascertained  where  the  men  lived.  Never  be- 
fore did  the  contrast  between  the  dull,  unin- 
teresting row  of  shop  tenements  and  his  own 
elegant  home  rise  up  so  sharply  before  him. 
In  fact,  he  had  never  given  it  much  thought 
before.  Now,  as  he  looked  forward  to  the 
end  of  the  week,  he  knew  that  at  its  close 
he  would  be  no  richer,  no  better  able  to  enjoy 
luxuries  than  the  dead  man  lying  in  No.  760, 
he  wondered  vaguely  but  passionately  how 
he  could  make  use  of  what  he  had  heaped 
together  to  make  the  daily  lives  of  some  of 
these  poor  men  happier. 

He  found  the  man  who  had  lost  both  eyes 
sitting  up  in  bed  and  feeling  in  a pathetic 
manner  of  a few  blocks  of  wood  which  one 
of  the  children  in  the  room  had  brought  to 
him..  He  was  a big,  powerful  man  like  his 
brother,  the  large-boned  Dane,  and  it  seemed 
a very  pitiful  thing  that  he  should  be  lying 
there  like  a baby  when  his  muscles  were  as 


82  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

powerful  as  ever.  The  brother  was  in  the 
room  with  the  injured  man  and  he  said  to 
him : 

‘‘Olaf,  Mr.  Hardy  come  to  see  you.’' 
“Hardy?  Hardy?”  queried  the  man  in  a 
peevish  tone.  “What  do  I know  him  to  be?” 
“The  manager.  The  one  who  donate  so 
really  much  moneys  to  you.” 

“Ah?”  with  an  indescribable  accent.  “He 
make  me  work  on  a Sunday.  He  lose  me  my 
two  eyes.  A bad  man,  Svord!  I will  no 
have  anything  to  do  with  him.” 

And  the  old  descendant  of  a thousand 
kings  turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  and  would 
not  even  so  much  as  make  a motion  toward 
his  visitor.  His  brother  offered  a rude  apol- 
ogy. Mr.  Hardy  replied  in  a low  tone : 

“Say  nothing  about  it.  I deserve  all  your 
brother  says.  But  for  a good  reason  I wish 
Olaf  would  say  he  forgives  me.” 

Mr.  Hardy  came  nearer  the  bed  and  spoke 
very  earnestly  and  as  if  he  had  known  the 
man  intimately: 

“I  did  you  a great  wrong  to  order  the  work 


Robert  Hardy* s Seven  Days.  83 

on  Sunday,  and  in  not  doing  my  duty  con- 
cerning the  inspection  of  the  machinery.  I 
have  come  to  say  so,  and  to  ask  your  forgive- 
ness. I may  never  see  you  again.  Will  you 
say  to  me,  ‘Brother,  I forgive  you'?’^ 

There  was  a moment  of  absolute  passivity 
on  the  part  of  the  big  fellow,  then  a very 
large  and  brawny  hand  was  extended  and 
the  blind  man  said: 

“Yes,  I forgive.  We  learned  that  in  the 
old  Bible  at  Svendorf.'' 

Mr.  Hardy  laid  his  hand  in  the  other,  and 
his  lips  moved  in  prayer  of  humble  thanks- 
giving. What!  Robert  Hardy!  Is  this  that 
proud  man  who  only  the  day  before  was  so 
lifted  up  with  selfishness  that  he  could  coldly 
criticise  his  own  minister  for  saying  that  peo- 
ple ought  to  be  more  Christlike?  Are  you 
standing  here  in  this  poor  man’s  house  which 
two  days  ago  you  would  not  have  deigned  to 
enter,  and  beseeching  him  as  your  brother  in 
the  great  family  of  God  to  forgive  you  for 
what  you  have  done  and  left  undone?  Yes; 
you  have  looked  into  the  face  of  Eternity; 


84  Robert  Hardyh  Seven  Days. 

you  realize  now  what  life  really  rneans  and 
what  souls  are  really  worth. 

He  went  out  after  a few  words  with  the 
family,  and  saw  all  the  other  injured  men. 
By  the  time  he  had  finished  these  visits  it  was 
dark,  .and  he  eagerly  turned  home,  exhausted 
with  the  day’s  experience,  feeling  as  if  he  had 
lived  in  a new  world  and  at  the  same  time 
wondering  at  the  rapidity  with  which  the 
time  had  fled. 

He  sighed  almost  contentedly  to  himself  a« 
he  thought  of  the  evening  with  his  family 
and  how  he  would  enjoy  it  after  the  disquiet 
of  the  day.  His  wife  was  there  to  greet  him, 
and  Alice  and  Clara  and  Bess  clung  about 
him  as  he  took  ofif  his  coat  and  came  into  the 
beautiful  room  where  a cheerful  fire  was 
blazing.  Will  came  downstairs  as  his  father 
came  in,  and  in  the  brief  interval  before  sup- 
per was  ready  Mr.  Hardy  related  the  scenes 
of  the  day. 

They  were  all  shocked  to  hear  of  Scoville^s 
death,  and  Mrs.  Hardy  at  once  began  to  dis- 
cuss some  plans  for  relieving  the  family.  Bess 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  85 

volunteered  to  give  up  half  her  room  to  one 
of  the  children,  and  Alice  quietly  outlined  a 
plan  which  immediately  appeared  to  her 
father  businesslike  and  feasible.  In  the  midst 
of  this  discussion  supper  was  announced  and 
they  all  sat  down. 

''Where  is  George?’'  asked  Mr.  Hardy. 
Ordinarily  he  would  have  gone  on  with  the 
meal  without  any  reference  to  the  boy,  be- 
cause he  was  so  often  absent  from  the  table. 
To-night  he  felt  an  irresistible  longing  to 
have  all  his  children  with  him. 

"He  said  he  was  invited  out  to  supper  with 
the  Bramleys,”  said  Clara. 

Mr.  Hardy  received  the  announcement  in 
silence.  He  felt  the  bitterness  of  such  indif- 
ference on  the  part  of  his  older  son.  "What !” 
he  said  to  himself,  "when  he  knows  I had 
such  a little  while  left,  could  he  not  be  at 
home?”  Then  almost  immediately  flashed  into 
him  the  self-reproach  even  stronger  than  his 
condemnation  of  his  boy:  "How  much  have 
I done  for  him  these  last  ten  years  to  win 
his  love  and  protect  him  from  evil?” 


86  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days, 

After  supper  Mr.  Hardy  sat  down  by  his 
wife,  and  in  the  very  act  he  blushed  with 
shame  at  the  thought  that  he  could  not  re- 
call when  he  had  spent  an  evening  thus.  He 
looked  into  her  face  and  asked  gently: 
'‘Mary,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do?  Shall 
I read  as  we  used  to  in  the  old  days?’" 

"No;  let  us  talk  together,""  replied  Mrs. 
Hardy,  bravely  driving  back  her  tears.  "I 
cannot  realize  what  it  all  means.  I have  been 
praying  all  day.  Do  you  still  have  the  impres- 
sion you  had  this  morning?"" 

"Mary,  I am,  if  anything,  even  more  con- 
vinced that  God  has  spoken  to  me.  The  im- 
pression has  been  deepening  with  me  all  day. 
When  I looked  into  poor  Scoville"s  face,  the 
terrible  nature  of  my  past  selfish  life  almost 
overwhelmed  me.  Oh,  why  have  I abused 
God’s  goodness  to  me  so  awfully?"" 

There  was  silence  a moment.  Then  Mr. 
Hardy  grew  more  calm.  He  began  to  dis- 
cuss what  he  would  do  the  second  day.  He 
related  more  fully  the  interview  with  the  men 
in  the  shop  and  his  visits  to  the  injured.  He 


Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days.  87 

drew  Clara  to  him  and  began  to  inquire  into 
her  troubles  in  such  a tender,  loving  way  that 
Clara's  proud,  passionate,  willful  nature 
broke  down,  and  she  sobbed  out  her  story  to 
him  as  she  had  to  her  mother  the  night  be- 
fore. 

Mr.  Hardy  promised  Clara  that  he  would 
see  James  the  next  day.  It  was  true  that 
James  Caxton  had  only  a week  before  ap- 
proached Mr.  Hardy  and  told  him  in  very 
mariful  fashion  of  his  love  for  his  daughter; 
but  Mr.  Hardy  had  treated  it  as  a child's  af- 
fair and,  in  accordance  with  his  usual  policy 
in  family  matters,  had  simply  told  Clara  and 
Bess  to  discontinue  their  visits  at  the  old 
neighbor's.  But  now  that  he  heard  the  story 
from  the  lips  of  his  own  daughter  he  saw  the 
seriousness  of  it,  and  crowding  back  all  his 
former  pride  and  hatred  of  the  elder  Caxton 
he  promised  Clara  to  see  James  the  next 
day. 

Clara  clung  to  her  father  in  loving  sur- 
prise. She  was  bewildered,  as  were  all  the 
rest,  by  the  strange  event  that  had  happened 


88  Robe:^t  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

to  her  father;  but  she  never  had  so  felt  his 
love  before,  and  forgetting  for  a while  the 
significance  of  his  wonderful  dream,  she  felt 
happy  in  his  presence  and  in  his  affection  for 
her. 

The  evening  had  sped  on  with  surprising 
rapidity  while  all  these  matters  were  being 
discussed,  and  as  it  drew  near  to  midnight 
again  Robert  Hardy  felt  almost  happy  in  the 
atmosphere  of  that  home  and  the  thought  that 
he  could  still  for  a little  while  create  joy  for 
those  who  loved  him.  Suddenly  he  spoke  of 
his  other  son: 

'T  wish  George  would  come  in.  Then  our 
family  circle  would  be  complete.  But  it  is 
bedtime  for  you,  Bess,  and  all  of  us,  for  that 
matter. ’’ 

It  was  just  then  that  steps  were  heard  on 
the  front  porch  and  voices  were  heard  as 
if  talking  in  whispers.  The  bell  rang.  Mr. 
Hardy  rose  to  go  to  the  door.  His  wife  clung 
to  him  terrified. 

'‘Oh,  don’t  go,  Robert!  I am  afraid  for 
you.” 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days,  89 

‘‘Why,  Mary,  it  cannot  be  anything  to 
harm  me.  Don't  be  alarmed." 

Nevertheless  he  was  a little  startled.  The 
day  had  been  a trying  one  for  him.  He  went 
to  the  door,  his  wife  and  the  children  follow- 
ing him  close  behind.  He  threw  it  wide 
open,  and  there,  supported  by  two  of  his  com- 
panions, one  of  them  the  young  man  Mr. 
Hardy  had  seen  in  the  hotel  lobby  at  noon, 
w^as  his  son  George,  too  drunk  to  stand  alone ! 
He  leered  into  the  face  of  his  father  and 
mother  with  a drunken  look  that  froze  their 
souls  with  despair,  as  the  blaze  of  the  hall 
lamp  fell  upon  him  reeling  there. 

And  so  the  first  of  Robert  Hardy's  seven 
days  came  to  an  end. 


CHAPTER  V. 


Mn  Hardy  was  a man  of  great  will  power, 
but  this  scene  with  his  drunken  son  crushed 
him  for  a moment  and  seemed  to  take  the 
very  soul  out  of  him.  Mrs.  Hardy  at  first  ut- 
tered a wild  cry  and  then  ran  forward,  and 
seizing  her  elder  boy  almost  dragged  him  into 
the  house,  while  Mr.  Hardy,  recovering  from 
his  first  shock,  looked  sternly  at  the  compan- 
ions of  the  boy  and  then  shut  the  door.  That 
night  was  a night  of  sorrow  in  that  family. 
The  sorrow  of  death  is  not  to  be  compared 
with  it. 

But  morning  came,  as  it  comes  alike  to  the 
condemned  criminal  and  to  the  pure-hearted 
child  on  a holiday,  and  after  a brief  and  trou- 
bled rest  Mr.  Hardy  awoke  to  his  second  day, 
the  memory  of  the  night  coming  to  him  at 
first  as  an  ugly  dream,  but  afterward  as  a 
terrible  reality.  His  boy  drunk!  He  could 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  91 

not  make  it  seem  possible.  Yet  there  in  the 
next  room  he  lay,  in  a drunken  stupor,  sleep- 
ing off  the  effects  of  his  debauch  of  the  night 
before.  Mr.  Hardy  fell  on  his  knees  and 
prayed  for  mercy,  again  repeating  the  words, 
'‘Almighty  God,  help  me  to  use  the  remaining 
days  in  the  wisest  and  best  manner.’’  Then 
calming  himself  by  a tremendous  effort  he 
rose  up  and  faced  the  day’s  work  as  bravely 
as  any  man  under  such  circumstances  could. 

After  a family  council,  in  which  all  of 
them  were  drawn  nearer  together  than  they 
ever  had  been  before,  on  account  of  their 
troubles,  Mr.  Hardy  outlined  the  day’s  work 
something  as  follows : 

First,  he  would  go  and  see  James  Caxton 
and  talk  over  the  affair  between  him  and 
Clara.  Then  he  would  go  down  to  the  office 
and  arrange  some  necessary  details  of  his 
business.  If  possible,  he  would  come  home 
to  lunch.  In  the  afternoon  he  would  go  to 
poor  Scoville’s  funeral,  which  had  been  ar- 
ranged for  two  o’clock.  Mrs.  Hardy  an- 
nounced her  intention  to  go  also.  Then  Mr. 


92  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

Hardy  thought  he  would  have  a visit  with 
George  and  spend  the  evening  at  home,  ar- 
ranging matters  with  reference  to  his  own 
death.  With  this  programme  in  mind,  he 
finally  went  away,  after  an  affectionate  leave- 
taking  with  his  wife  and  children. 

George  slept  heavily  until  the  middle  of  the 
forenoon,  and  then  awoke  with  a raging 
headache.  Bess  had  several  times  during  the 
morning  stolen  into  the  room  to  see  if  her 
brother  were  awake.  When  he  did  finally 
turn  over  and  open  his  eyes,  he  saw  the 
young  girl  standing  by  the  bedside.  He 
groaned  as  he  recalled  the  night,  and  his 
mother's  look,  arid  Bess  said  timidly  as  she 
laid  her  hand  on  his  forehead : 

^^George,  Fm  so  sorry  for  you!  Don't 
you  feel  well  ?" 

feel  as  if  my  head  would  split  open.  It 
aches  as  if  some  one  was  chopping  wood  in- 
side of  it." 

‘‘What  makes  you  feel  so?"  asked  Bess, 
innocently.  ^‘Did  you  eat  too  much  supper 
at  the  Bramleys  ?" 


Robert  Hardyh  Seven  Days.  93 

Bess  had  never  seen  any  one  drunk  before, 
and  when  George  was  helped  to  bed  the  night 
before  by  his  father  and  mother  she  did  not 
understand  his  condition.  She  had  alw^ays 
adored  her  big  brother.  It  was  not  strange 
she  had  no  idea  of  his  habits. 

George  looked  at  his  small  sister  curiously ; 
then,  under  an  impulse  he  could  not  explain, 
he  drew  her  nearer  to  him  and  said : 

'*Bess,  Fm  a bad  fellow.  I was  drunk  last 
night!  Drunk! — do  you  understand?  And 
TVe  nearly  killed  mother!’^ 

Bess  was  aghast  at  the  confession.  She 
put  out  her  hand  again. 

''Oh,  no,  George  V Then  -with  a swift  re- 
vulsion of  feeling  she  drew  back  and  said: 
"How  could  you,  with  father  feeling  as  he 
does?’’ 

And  little  Bess,  who  was  a creature  of  very 
impulsive  emotions,  sat  down  crying  on  what 
she  supposed  was  a cushion,  but  which  was 
George’s  tall  hat,  accidentally  covered  with 
one  end  of  a comforter  which  had  slipped  off 
the  bed.  Bess  was  a very  plump  little  crea- 


94  Robert  //ardys  Seven  Days, 

ture,  and  as  she  picked  herself  up  and  held 
up  the  hat  George  angrily  exclaimed: 

''You're  always  smashing  my  things !" 
But  the  next  minute  he  was  sorry  for  the 
words. 

Bess  retreated  tow^ard  the  door,  quivering 
under  the  injustice  of  the  charge.  At  the 
door  she  halted.  She  had  something  of 
Clara's  passionate  temper,  and  once  in  a 
while  she  let  even  her  adored  brother  George 
feel  it,  small  as  she  was. 

"George  Hardy,  if  you  think  more  of  your 
old  stovepipe  hat  than  you  do  of  your  sister, 
all  right!  You'll  never  get  any  more  of  my 
month's  allowance.  And  if  I do  smash  your 
things,  I don't  come  home  drunk  at  night  and 
break  mother's  heart.  That's  what  she's 
crying  about  this  morning — that,  and  father's 
queer  ways.  Oh,,  dear ! I don't  want  to  live ; 
life  is  so  full  of  trouble !"  And  little  twelve- 
year-old  Bess  sobbed  in  genuine  sorrow. 

George  forgot  his  headache  a minute. 

"Come,  Bess,  come,  and  kiss  and  make  up. 
Honest,  now,  I didn't  mean  it.  I was  bad  to 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  95 

say  what  I did.  Fll  buy  a dozen  hats  and 
let  you  sit  on  them  for  fun.  Don^t  go  away 
angry;  I’m  so  miserable!” 

He  lay  down  and  groaned  and  Bess  went 
to  him  immediately,  all  her  anger  vanished. 

^'Oh,  let  me  get  you  something  to  drive 
away  your  headache;  and  Fll  bring  you  up 
something  nice  to  eat.  Mother  had  Norah 
save  something  for  you — didn^t  you,  moth- 
er?” 

Bessie  asked  the  question  just  as  her 
mother  came  in. 

Mrs.  Hardy  said  ''Yes,”  and  going  up  to 
George  sat  down  by  him  and  laid  her  hand 
on  his  head,  as  his  sister  had  done. 

The  boy  moved  uneasily.  He  saw  the 
marks  of  great  suffering  on  his  mother’s  face, 
but  he  said  nothing  to  express  sorrow  for 
his  disgrace. 

"Bess,  will  you  go  and  get  George  his 
breakfast?”  asked  Mrs.  Hardy;  and  the 
minute  she  was  gone  the  mother  turned  to 
her  son  and  said: 

"George,  do  you  love  me?” 


g6  Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days. 

George  had  been  expecting  something  dif- 
ferent. He  looked  at  his  mother  as  the  tears 
fell  over  her  face,  and  all  that  was  still  good 
in  him  rose  up  in  rebellion  against  the  animal 
part.  He  seized  his  mother’s  hand  and  car- 
ried it  to  his  lips,  kissed  it  reverently,  and 
said  in  a low  tone : 

‘‘Mother,  1 am  unworthy.  If  you  knew 


He  checked  himself  as  if  on  the  verge  of 
confession.  His  mother  waited  anxiously, 
and  then  asked: 

“Won’t  you  tell  me  all?” 

“No;  I can’t!” 

George  shuddered,  and  at  that  moment 
Bess  came  in  bearing  a tray  with  toast  and 
eggs  and  coffee.  Mrs.  Hardy  left  Bess  to 
look  after  her  brother  and  went  out  of  the 
room  almost  abruptly.  George  looked 
ashamed,  and  after  eating  a little  told  Bess 
to  take  the  things  away.  She  looked  grieved, 
and  he  said : 

“Can’t  help  it;  I’m  not  hungry.  Besides, 
I don’t  deserve  all  this  attention.  Say,  Bess, 


Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days,  97 

is  father  still  acting  under  his  impression,  or 
dream,  or  whatever  it  was 

''Yes,  he  is,’’  replied  Bessie  with  much 
seriousness ; "and  he  is  ever  so  good  now,  and 
kisses  mother  and  all  of  us  good-by  in  the 
morning;  and  he  is  kind  and  ever  so  good. 
I don’t  believe  he  is  in  his  right  mind.  Will 
said  yesterday  he  thought  father  was  non 
campus  meant  us;  and  then  he  wouldn’t  tell 
me  what  it  meant;  but  I guess  he  doesn’t 
think  father  is  just  right  intellectually.” 

Now  and  then  Bess  got  hold  of  a big  word 
and  used  it  for  all  it  would  repeat.  She  said 
"intellectually”  over  twice,  and  George 
laughed  a little,  but  it  was  a bitter  laugh,  not 
such  as  a boy  of  his  age  has  any  business  to 
possess.  He  lay  down  and  appeared  to  be 
thinking,  and  after  a while  said  aloud : 

"I  wonder  if  he  wouldn’t  let  me  have  some 
money  while  he’s  feeling  that  way?” 

"Who?”  queried  Bess.  "Father?” 

"What!  you  here  still.  Curiosity?  Better 
take  these  things  downstairs.” 

George  spoke  with  his  "headache  tone,” 


98  Robert  Hafdy^s  Seven  Days. 

as  Clara  called  it,  and  Bess  without  reply 
gathered  up  the  tray  things  and  went  out, 
while  George  continued  to  figure  out  in  his 
hardly  yet  sober  brain  the  possibility  of  his 
father  letting  him  have  more  money  with 
which  to  gamble;  and  yet,  in  the  very  next 
room,  Mrs.  Hardy  kneeled  in  an  agony  of 
petition  for  that  firstborn,  crying  out  of  her 
heart:  ‘'Oh,  God,  it  is  more  than  I can  bear! 
To  see  him  growing  away  from  me  so ! Dear 
Lord,  be  thou  merciful  to  me.  Bring  him 
back  again  to  the  life  he  used  to  live ! How 
proud  I was  of  him!  What  a joy  he  was  to 
me ! And  now,  and  now ! Oh,  gracious 
Father,  if  thou  art  truly  compassionate,  hear 
me ! Has  not  this  foul  demon  of  drink  done 
harm  enough  ? That  it  should  still  come  into 
my  home ! Ah,  but  I have  been  indifferent  to 
the  cries  of  other  women,  but  now  it  strikes 
me ! Spare  me,  great  and  powerful  Al- 
mighty! My  boy!  my  heart's  hunger  is  for 
him!  I would  rather  see  him  dead  than  see 
him  as  I saw  him  last  night.  Spare  me! 
spare  me,  O God !"  Thus  the  mother 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  99 

prayed,  dry-eyed  and  almost  despairing, 
while  he  for  whom  she  prayed  that  heart- 
broken prayer  calculated,  with  growing  cold- 
ness of  mind,  the  chances  of  getting  more 
money  from  his  father  to  use  in  drink  and 
at  the  gaming-table. 

Oh,  appetite ! and  thou  spirit  of  gambling ! 
Ye  are  twin  demons  with  whom  many  a 
fair-browed  young  soul  to-day  is  marching 
arm  in  arm  down  the  dread  pavement  of 
hell's  vestibule,  lined  with  grinning  skeletons 
of  past  victims ; and  yet  men  gravely  discuss 
tlie  probability  of  evil,  and  think  there  is  no 
special  danger  in  a little  speculation  now  and 
then.  Parents  say:  ‘‘Oh,  my  boy  wouldn't 
do  such  a thing!"  But  how  many  know 
really  and  truly  what  their  boy  is  really  do- 
ing, and  how  many  of  the  young  men  would 
dare  reveal  to  their  mothers  or  fathers  the 
places  where  they  have  been  and  the  amuse- 
rrents  they  have  tasted,  and  the  things  for 
which  they  have  spent  their  money? 

Mr.  Hardy  went  at  once  to  his  neighbors. 


lOO  Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days. 

the  Caxtons,  who  lived  only  a block  away* 
He  had  not  been  on  speaking  terms  with  the 
family  for  some  time,  and  he  dreaded  the  in- 
terview with  the  sensitive  dread  of  a very 
proud  and  stern-willed  man.  But  two  days 
had  made  a great  change  in  him.  He  was 
a new  man  in  Christ  Jesus;  and  as  he  rang 
the  bell  he  prayed  for  wisdom  and  humility. 

James  himself  came  to  the  door  with  his 
overcoat  on  and  hat  in  hand,  evidently  just 
ready  to  go  down  town.  He  started  back 
at  seeing  Mr.  Hardy. 

''Are  you  going  down  town?  I will  not 
come  in  then,  but  walk  along  with  you,”  said 
Mr.  Hardy  quietly. 

So  James  came  out,  and  the  two  walked 
along  together.  There  was  an  awkward 
pause  for  a minute,  then  Mr.  Hardy  said : 

"Jamies,  is  it  true  that  you  and  Clara  are 
engaged  ?” 

"No,  sir;  that — is — not  exactly  what  you 
might  call  engaged.  We  would  like  to  be.” 
Mr.  Hardy  smiled  in  spite  of  himself ; and 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days,  loi 

James  added  in  a quickened  tone,  ‘‘We 
would  like  to  be,  with  your  consent,  sir/' 

Mr.  Hardy  walked  on  thoughtfully  and 
then  glanced  at  the  young  man  at  his  side. 
He  was  six  feet  tall,  not  very  handsome,  as 
Bessie  had ‘frankly  said,  but  he  had  a good 
face,  a steady,  clear  blue  eye,  and  resolute 
air,  as  of  one  who  was  willing  to  v-ork  hard 
to  get  what  he  wanted.  Mr.  Hardy  could 
not  help  contrasting  him  with  his  own  pre- 
maturely broken-down  son  George,  and  he 
groaned  inwardly  as  he  thought  of  the  fool- 
ish pride  that  would  bar  the  doors  of  his 
family  to  a young  man  like  James  Caxton 
simply  because  he  was  poor  and  because  his 
father  had  won  in  a contested  election  in 
which  the  two  older  men  were  candidates  for 
the  same  office. 

It  did  not  take  long  to  think  all  this.  Then 
he  said,  looking  again  at  the  young  man 
with  a businesslike  look : 

^'Supposing  you  had  my  permission,  what 
are  your  prospects  for  supporting  my  daugh- 


102  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

ter  ? She  has  always  had  everything  she 
wanted.  What  could  you  give  her?’’ 

The  question  might  have  seemed  cold  and 
businesslike.  The  tone  was  thoughtful  and 
serious. 

A light  flashed  into  James’  eyes,  but  he 
said  simply : 'T  am  in  a position  to  make  a 
thousand  dollars  a year  next  spring.  I earn 
something  extra  with  my  pen  at  home.” 

Mr.  Hardy  did  not  reply  to  this.  He  said : 
''Do  you  know  what  a willful,  quick-tem- 
pered girl  Clara  is?” 

‘T  have  known  her  from  a little  child,  Mr. 
Hardy.  I feel  as  if  I knew  her  about  as  well 
as  you  do.” 

"Perhaps  you  know  her  better  than  I do; 
I do  not  know  my  child  as  I should.”. 

The  tone  was  not  bitter  but  intensely  sad. 
The  young  man  had,  of  course,  been  greatly 
wondering  at  this  talk  from  Mr.  Hardy,  and 
had  observed  the  change  in  his  manner  and 
his  speech.  He  looked  at  him  now  and 
noted  the  pale,  almost  haggard,  face  and  his 
extremely  thoughtful  appearance. 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  103 

''Mr.  Hardy/'  said  James  frankly,  "you 
are  in  trouble.  I wish  I could " 

"Thank  you  ; no,  you  can't  help  me  any  in 
this — except/'  continued  Mr.  Hardy  with  a 
faint  smile,  "except  you  solve  this  trouble 
between  you  and  my  daughter." 

"There  is  no  trouble  between  us,  sir,"  re- 
plied  James  simply.  "You  know  I love  her 
and  have  loved  her  for  a long  time,  and  I be- 
lieve I am  able  to  support  her  and  make  her 
happy.  Won't  you  give  your  consent,  sir.^ 
We  are  not  children.  We  know  our  minds?” 

James  was  beginning  to  speak  very  ear- 
nestly. He  was  beginning  to  hope  that  the 
stern,  proud  man  who  had  so  curtly  dis- 
missed him  a little  while  before  would  in 
some  unaccountable  manner  relent  and  give 
him  his  heart's  desire. 

Mr.  Hardy  walked  along  in  silence  a little 
way.  Then  he  said,  almost  abruptly; 

"James,  do  you  drink?" 

"No,  sir!" 


"Or  gamble  ?" 


104  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

‘‘You  forget  my  mother,  Mr.  Hardy.” 
The  reply  was  almost  stern. 

Mrs.  Caxton’s  younger  brother  had  been 
ruined  by  gambling.  He  had  come  to  the 
house  one  night  and  in  a fit  of  anger  because 
his  sister  would  not  give  him  money  to  carry 
on  his  speculation  he  had  threatened  her  life. 
James  had  interposed  and  at  the  risk  of  his 
own  life  had  probably  saved  his  mother’s. 
Mrs.  Caxton  had  been  so  unnerved  by  the 
scene  that  her  health  had  sufifered  from  it 
seriously.  All  this  had  happened  when 
James  was  growing  out  of  boyhood.  But 
not  a day  had  passed  that  the  young  man 
did  not  see  a sad  result  of  that  great  gam- 
bling passion  in  his  own  mother’s  face  and 
bearing.  He  loathed  the  thought  of  a vice 
so  debasing  that  it  ignored  all  the  tender  ties 
of  kindred  and  was  ready  to  stop  at  nothing 
in  order  to  get  means  for  its  exercise. 

Mr.  Hardy  knew  the  story  and  he  ex- 
claimed : “Forgive  me,  James,  I did  not 
think!”  Then,  after  a pause,  “Are  you  a 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  105 

Christian?  I mean,  do  you  have  a faith  in 
the  revelation  of  God  to  men  through  Jesus 
Christ,  and  do  you  try  to  live  according  to 
His  teachings,  with  a supreme  love  for  God 
controlling  your  life  ? Do  you  live  every  day 
as  if  it  might  be  the  last  you  would  have  to 
live?^’ 

James  started.  Was  Mr.  Hardy  out  of  his 
mind?  He  had  never  heard  him  talk  like 
this  before.  The  idea  of  Mr.  Hardy  caring 
about  his  religious  character  in  the  event  of 
his  becoming'  a son-in-law  was  an  idea  too 
remote  for  occurrence.  He  could  see,  how- 
ever, that  some  very  powerful  change  had 
taken  place  in  Mr.  Hardy's  usual  demeanor. 
His  words  also  produced  a strong  effect 
upon  the  young  man.  He  was  like  thou- 
sands of  young  men — temperate,  honest,  in- 
dustrious, free  from  vices,  strictly  moral,  but 
without  any  decided  religious  faith.  ‘'Am  I 
a Christian?"  he  asked  himself,  echoing  Mr. 
Hardy's  question.  No ; he  could  not  say 
that  he  was.  He  had  never  said  so  to  any 
one.  He  had,  in  fact,  never  been  confronted 


io6  Robert  Hardy s Seven  Days. 

with  the  question  before.  So  he  replied  to 
Mr.  Hardy: 

‘‘No,  sir ; I don’t  think  I am  what  would 
be  called  a Christian.  As  for  living  as  if 
every  day  were  to  be  my  last — do  you  think 
that  is  possible,  sir?” 

Mr.  Hardy  did  not  answer.  He  walked 
along  thoughtfully.  In  the  course  of  the 
conversation  they  had  reached  the  corner 
where  the  young  man  turned  down  to  his  of- 
fice, and  the  two  paused. 

“I  want  to  have  another  talk  with  you,” 
Mr.  Hardy  said.  “To-day  is  Tuesday;  say 
to-morrow  evening.  I want  to  see  your 

father  also,  and ” Mr.  Hardy  was  on 

the  point  of  saying  that  he  wanted  to  ask  the 
elder  Caxton’s  forgiveness,  but  for  some  rea- 
son he  stopped  without  doing  so. 

James  exclaimed  eagerly  as  Mr.  Hardy 
turned  to  go : 

“Then  you  don’t  forbid  my  entertaining 
some  hope  of  your  good  will  in  the  matter  of 
my  love  for  Clara?”  He  lowered  his  voice 
and  spoke  very  strongly.  “You  don’t  for- 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  107 

get  your  own  youth,  and  the  way  in  which 
you  yourself  began  your  home?'’ 

Mr.  Hardy  answered  never  a word  to  this 
appeal,  but  looked  into  the  young  man's 
face  with  a gaze  he  did  not  forget  all  day, 
then  wrung  his  hand  and  turned  on  his  heel 
abruptly  and  walked  rapidly  down  the  street. 

James  looked  after  him  as  he  disappeared 
among  the  crowds  of  people  going  to  their 
business,  and  then  turned  to  his  own  tasks. 
But  something  in  him  gave  him  hope. 
Another  something  appealed  all  day  to  his 
inner  nature,  and  he  could  not  shake  off  the 
impression  of  Mr.  Hardy's  question : ‘'Are 
you  a Christian  ?"  And  even  when  he  went 
home  at  night  that  question  pursued  him 
more  strenuously  than  any  other,  and  would 
not  give  him  peace. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


Robert  Hardy  reached  his  office  just  in 
time  to  see  Burns,  the  foreman,  go  out  of  a 
side  door  and  cross  the  yard.  The  manager 
followed  him  and  entered  the  machine  shop 
in  time  to  see  him  stop  at  a machine  at  the 
farthest  end  of  the  shop  and  speak  to  the 
man  at  work  there.  The  man  was  a Nor- 
wegian, Herman  by  name.  He  was  run- 
.ning  what  is  called  a planer,  a machine  for 
trimming  pieces  of  cold  metal  just  from  the 
foundry  or  the  casting-room.  He  was  at 
work  this  morning  on  one  of  the  eccentric 
bars  of  a locomotive,  and  it  was  of  such  a 
character  that  he  could  leave  the  machine  for 
several  minutes  to  do  the  planing.  Burns 
talked  with  this  man  for  a while  and  then 
moved  across  the  floor  to  the  other  work- 
man, a small-boned,  nervous  little  fellow, 
who  was  in  charge  of  a boring  machine 


Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days.  109 

which  drove  a steel  drill  through  heavy  plates 
of  iron  fastened  into  the  frame. 

Mr.  Hardy  came  up  just  as  Burns  turned 
away  from  this  man,  and  touched  him  on 
the  shoulder.  The  foreman  started  and 
turned  about,  surprised  to  see  the  manager. 

''Well,  Burns,  how  goes  everything  this 
morning?’'  asked  Robert. 

"The  men  here  are  grumbling  because 
they  don’t  have  a holiday  same  as  the  men 
in  Scoville’s  department.” 

"But  we  can’t  shut  down  the  whole  busi- 
ness, can  we?”  asked  Mr.  Hardy  with  a mo- 
mentary touch  of  his  old  time  feeling.  "The 
men  are  unreasonable.” 

"I’m  afraid  there’ll  be  trouble,  sir.  I can 
feel  it  in  the  air,”  replied  Burns. 

Mr.  Hardy  made  no  reply  in  words,  but 
looked  about  him.  Within  the  blackened 
area  of  the  great  shop  about  two  hundred 
men  were  at  work.  The  whirl  of  machinery 
was  constant.  The  grind  of  steel  on  iron 
was  blended  with  the  rattle  of  chains  and  the 
rolling  of  the  metal  carriages  in  their  tracks. 


no  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

The  Genius  of  Railroading  seemed  present  in 
the  grim  strength  and  rapidity  of  several 
machines  which  moved  almost  as  if  instinct 
with  intelligence,  and  played  with  the  most 
unyielding  substances  as  if  they  were  soft 
and  pliable  clay.  In  the  midst  of  all  the 
smashing  of  matter  against  itself,  through  the 
smoke  and  din  and  dust  and  revolution  of  the 
place,  Mr.  Hardy  was  more  than  usually 
alive  this  morning  to  the  human  aspect  of  the 
case.  His  mind  easily  went  back  to  the  time 
when  he  himself  stood  at  one  of  these  planers 
and  did  just  such  work  as  that  big  Norwe- 
gian was  doing,  only  the  machines  were  vast- 
ly better  and  improved  now.  Mr.  Hardy  was 
not  ashamed  of  having  come  along  through 
the  ranks  of  manual  labor.  In  fact,  he  al- 
ways spoke  with  pride  of  the  work  he  used 
to  do  in  that  very  shop,  and  he  considered 
himself  able  to  run  all  by  himself  any  piece 
of  machinery  in  the  shops.  But  he  could  not 
help  envying  these  men  this  morning. 
‘'Why,''  he  said,  “probably  not  one  of  them 
but  has  at  least  seven  weeks  to  live,  and  most 


Robert  Hardy' s Seven  Days.  1 1 1 

of  them  seven  months  or  years,  while  I — 
Why  should  these  men  complain  because 
they  are  not  released  from  toil?  Isn't  toil 
sweet  when  there  is  a strong  body  and  a lov- 
ing wife  and  a happy  home?  O God!"  he 
continued  to  think,  ''I  would  give  all  my 
wealth  if  I might  change  places  with  any  one 
of  these  men,  and  know  that  I would  prob- 
ably have  more  than  a week  to  live." 

Mr.  Hardy  walked  back  to  his  office,  leav- 
ing the  foreman  in  a condition  of  wondering 
astonishment. 

''Something  wrong  in  his  works,  I guess," 
muttered  Burns. 

Mr.  Hardy  sat  down  to  his  desk  and  wrote 
an  order,  releasing  all  the  men  who  desired 
to  attend  Scoville's  funeral  in  the  afternoon. 
He  did  not  have  it  in  his  power  to  do  more, 
and  yet  he  felt  that  this  was  the  least  he  could 
do  under  the  circumstances.  The  more  he 
thought  of  Scoville's  death  the  more  he  felt 
the  cruel  injustice  of  it.  The  injuries  were 
clearly  accidental : but  they  might  have  been 
avoided  with  proper  care  for  human  life, 


1 12  Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days. 

and  Robert  Hardy  was  just  beginning  to 
understand  the  value  of  humanity. 

He  worked  hard  at  the  routine  of  his  of- 
fice work  until  noon.  He  did  what  seemed 
to  him  the  most  necessary  part  of  it  all  with 
conscientious  fidelity.  But  his  mind,  a good 
part  of  the  time,  was  with  the  men  in  the 
shops.  He  could  not  escape  the  conviction 
that  if  a railroad  company  had  the  willing- 
ness to  do  so.  it  could  make  the  surround* 
ings  of  these  men  safer  and  happier  without 
getting  poorer  work  or  even  losing  any 
money  by  it. 

When  noon  sounded  he  went  home  re- 
solved to  do  something,  as  far  as  lay  in  his 
power,  to  make  the  men  feel  that  they  were 
regarded  as  something  more  than  machines. 

George  was  downstairs  when  his  father 
came  in,  and  looked  at  him  with  curiosity 
rather  than  with  any  feeling  of  shame  for  the 
scene  of  the  night  before.  After  lunch  was 
over,  Mr.  Hardy  called  his  son  into  the  study 
for  a little  talk  with  him  before  going  down 
to  the  funeral. 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  113 

*‘I  do  not  need  to  tell  you,  George,'’  began 
his  father  quietly,  but  with  feeling,  ‘‘that  I 
felt  the  disgrace  of  your  drunkenness  last 
night  very  bitterly.  You  cannot  know  the 
feelings  of  your  father  and  mother  in  that  re- 
spect. But  I did  not  call  }^ou  in  here  to  re- 
proach you  for  your  vices.  I want  to  know 
what  you  intend  to  do  in  the  face  of  the  pres- 
ent conditions." 

Mr.  Hardy  paused,  then  went  on  again; 
“I  am  perfectly  aware,  George,  that  you  re- 
gard my  dream  as  a fancy,  and  think  I am 
probably  out  of  my  mind.  Isn't  that  true?" 
Mr.  Hardy  looked  George  full  in  the  face  and 
the  young  man  stammered : 

“Well — I — ah — yes — I — don't  just  under- 
stand  " 

“At  the  same  time,"  went  on  his  father,  “I 
realize  that  nothing  but  a conviction  of  re- 
ality could  produce  the  change  in  me  which 
you  and  all  the  rest  of  the  family  must  ac- 
knowledge has  taken  place.  And  you  must 
confess  that  I am  acting  far  more  rationally 
than  I did  before  my  dream  occurred.  It  is 


1 14  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

not  natural  for  a father  to  neglect  his  own 
children,  and  I have  done  it.  It  is  not  ra- 
tional that  he  should  spend  his  time  and 
money  and  strength  on  himself  so  as  to  grow 
intensely  selfish,  and  I have  done  that.  My 
son,  you  may  doubt  me,  but  I am  firmly  con- 
vinced that  I shall  not  be  alive  here  after 
next  Sunday.  I am  trying  to  live  as  I ought 
to  live  under  those  conditions.  My  son,'' 
Mr.  Hardy  spoke  with  a dignity  and  a cer- 
tain impression  which  George  could  not  but 
feel,  want  you  to  do  as  you  know  you 
ought  to  do  under  the  circumstances.  When 
I am  gone  your  mother  and  the  girls  will 
look  to  you  for  advice  and  direction.  You 
will  probably  have  to  leave  college  for  a little 
while.  We  will  talk  that  over  this  evening. 
But  I want  you  to  promise  me  that  you  will 
not  touch  another  glass  of  liquor  or  handle 
another  card  as  long  as  you  live." 

George  laughed  a little  uneasily,  and  then 
lied  outright:  ‘‘I  don't  see  the  harm  of  a 

game  once  in  a while  just  for  fun.  I don't 
play  for  stakes,  as  some  fellows  do." 


Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days.  115 


“George/'  said  his  father,  looking  at  him 
steadily,  “you  have  not  told  the  truth.  You 
were  gambling  only  a few  nights  ago.  It  is 
useless  for  you  to  deny  it.  That  is  where  the 
very  liberal  allowance  I have  given  you  has 
been  squandered." 

George  turned  deathly  pale  and  sat  with 
bowed  head  while  his  father  went  on  almost 
sternly:  “Consider  your  mother,  George, 

whose  heart  almost  broke  when  you  came  in 
last  night.  I don't  ask  you  to  consider  me. 
I have  not  been  to  you  what  a father  ought 
to  be.  But  if  you  love  your  mother  and  sis- 
ters, and  have  any  self-respect  left,  you  will 
let  drink  and  cards  alone  after  this.  In  the 
sight  of  God,  my  dear  boy,  remember  what 
He  made  you  for.  You  are  young.  You 
have  all  of  life  before  you.  You  can 
make  a splendid  record  if  God  spares 
your  life.  I would  gladly  give  all  I possess 
to  stand  where  you  do  to-day,  and  live  my 
life  over  again.  I can't  do  it.  The  past  is 
irrevocable.  But  one  can  always  repent. 
George,  believe  me,  your  mother  would 


ii6  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

rather  see  you  in  your  coffin  than  see  you 
come  home  again  as  you  did  last  night.  We 
love  you ’’ 

Mr.  Hardy,  proud  man  as  he  was,  could 
say  no  more.  He  laid  his  hand  on  the  boy's 
head  as  if  he  were  a young  lad  again,  and 
said  simply,  ''Don’t  disappoint  God,  my 
boy,”  and  went  out,  leaving  his  son  sitting 
there  almost  overcome  by  his  father’s  power- 
ful appeal,  but  not  yet  ready  to  yield  him- 
self to  the  still  small  voice  that  spoke  within 
even  more  powerfully,  and  whispered  to  him, 
"My  son,  give  me  thine  heart.  Cease  to  do 
evil ; learn  to  do  well.  Cleanse  thy  ways 
and  follow  after  righteousness.” 

It  was  one  o’clock  when  Mr.  Hardy  came 
downstairs,  and  as  he  came  into  the  room 
where  Mrs.  Hardy  and  the  girls  were  sitting, 
he  happened  to  think  of  some  business  mat- 
ters between  himself  and  his  only  brother, 
who  lived  in  the  next  town,  twenty  miles 
down  the  road. 

He  spoke  of  the  matter  to  Mrs.  Hardy, 
and  she  suggested  that  Will  go  down  on  the 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  117 

three  o’clock  ’train  with  the  papers  Mr. 
Hardy  wanted  to  ^ ave  his  brother  look  over, 
and  come  back  on  the  six  o’clock  in  time  for 
dinner. 

Clara  asked  if  she  couldn’t  go,  too,  and 
Bessie  added  her  request,  as  she  had  not 
seen  her  aunt  for  some  time.  Mr.  Hardy 
saw  no  objection  to  their  going,  only  he  re- 
minded them  that  he  wanted  them  all  back 
at  six.  Alice  volunteered  to  amuse  George 
at  home  while  all  the  rest  were  gone,  and 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hardy  departed  for  the  funeral, 
Mr.  Hardy’s  thoughts  still  absorbed  for 
the  most  part  with  his  older  boy.  Clara  had 
asked  no  questions  concerning  the  interview 
with  James,  and  her  father  simply  stated  that 
they  could  have  a good  talk  about  it  in  the 
evening. 

The  tenement  at  No.  760  was  crowded, 
and  in  spite  of  the  wintry  weather  large  num- 
bers of  men  and  women  stood  outside  in  the 
snow.  Mr.  Hardy  had  ordered  his  sleigh, 
and  he  and  his  wife  had  gone  down  to  the 


1 1 8^  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

house  in  that,  ready  to  take  some  one  to  the 
cemetery. 

The  simple  service  as  began  was  ex- 
ceedingly impressive  to  Mr.  Hardy.  Most 
of  the  neighbors  present  looked  at  him  and 
his  well-dressed  wife  in  sullen  surprise.  She 
noticed  the  looks  with  a heightening  color; 
but  Mr.  Hardy  was  too  much  absorbed  in 
his  thought  of  what  he  had  done  and  left 
undone  in  this  family  to  be  influenced  by  the 
behavior  of  those  about  him. 

Mr.  Jones  offered  a prayer  for  the  comfort 
of  God  to  rest  on  the  stricken  family.  He 
then  read  a few  words  from  John’s  Gospel 
appropriate  to  the  occasion,  and  said  a few 
simple  words,  mostly  addressed  to  the  neigh- 
bors present.  The  poor  widow  had  been  re- 
moved to  a small  room  upstairs,  and  lay  there 
cared  for  by  the  faithful  sister.  The  minister 
had  nearly  concluded  his  remarks  when  a 
voice  was  heard  in  the  room  above,  voices 
expostulating  in  alarm  and  growing  louder, 
followed  by  a rapid  movement  in  the  narrow 
hall  above,  and  with  a scream  of  frenzy  the 


Robert  Hardy  s Seven  Days.  119 

wife  rushed  down  the  stairs  and  burst  into 
the  room  where  the  dead  body  of  her  hus- 
band lay.  She  had  suddenly  awakened  out 
of  the  fainting  stupor  in  which  she  had  been 
lying  since  her  husband's  death,  and  realized 
what  was  going  on  in  the  house  with  a quick 
gathering  of  passion  and  strength,  such  as 
even  the  dying  sometimes  are  known  to 
possess.  She  had  escaped  from  her  sister 
and  the  neighbor  who  were  watching  with 
her,  and,  crazy  with  grief,  flung  herself  over 
the  cofiin,  moaning  and  crying  out  in  such 
heart-breaking  accents  that  all  present  were 
for  a moment  flung  into  a state  of  inaction 
and  awe. 

But  Mrs.  Hardy  was  first  to  move  toward 
the  stricken  woman.  Where  did  the  wife  of 
the  once  haughty  and  proud  man  learn  the 
touch  of  sympathy  that  drew  that  other  poor 
sister  nearer  to  her,  and  finally  soothed  her 
into  quietness?  Certain  it  is  that  suffering 
in  her  own  home  had  marvelously  taught  the 
richly  dressed  woman,  the  refined,  cultured 
lady,  to  hold  this  other  one  to  be  of  the  same 


120  Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days. 

household  of  God  with  her.  So  it  was  that 
she  finally  succeeded  in  drawing  her  away 
into  the  other  room,  and  there  held  her, 
gasping  for  breath,  now  that  the  brief 
strength  was  spent,  and  crying  feebly,  '‘Oh 
God,  help  me ! Don’t  keep  me  here  in  this 
world  any  longer !” 

If  this  brief  scene  thrilled  the  neighbors 
with  pity,  what  shall  be  said  of  its  effect  on 
Robert  Hardy?  For  a moment  it  seemed 
to  him  more  than  he  could  bear.  He  started 
to  his  feet  and  put  his  hands  before  his  face. 
Then  calming  himself  by  a great  effort  he  sat 
down  and  his  face  became  almost  like  a stone 
in  its  rigidity.  When  his  wife  finally  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  the  woman  into  the  rear 
room,  his  face  relaxed  and  he  breathed  more 
easily  ; but  as  soon  as  possible  he  arose  and 
went  out  and  stood  silent  there  until  the 
body  was  brought  out  and  placed  in  the 
hearse. ' Then  he  went  in  and  spoke  a few 
words  to  his  wife,  and  told  Mr.  Jones  that  he 
could  take  four  or  five  to  the  cemetery  if 
they  wished  to  go.  Mrs.  Hardy  would  stay 


Robert  Hardy s Seven  Days,  12 1 

with  the  suffering  widow  until  he  came  back. 
Mr.  Hardy  also  whispered  something  to  his 
minister,  and  gave  him  a large  roll  of  bills  to 
be  used  for  the  family.  Then  went  out 
again. 

That  ride  in  the  cold  gray  of  the  declining 
winter  afternoon  was  a bitter  experience  to 
Robert.  He  roused  himself  at  the  grave  as 
he  heard  the  words,  ''Raise  us  from  the  death 
of  sin  unto  the  resurrection  of  righteous- 
ness,’' and  something  like  a gleam  of  hope 
shot  through  his  heart  at  the  words.  Surely 
there  was  mercy  with  Him  who  had  con- 
quered death  for  the  sake  of  the  human  race. 
He  drove  back  with  more  peace  of  soul  than 
he  had  thought  possible.  By  the  time  he 
had  reached  the  shop  tenements  it  was  grow- 
ing dark.  He  drove  home  with  his  wife  and 
thought  with  something  of  a feeling  of  pleas- 
ure of  the  evening  before  him  with  his  family. 
This  second  day  had  been  more  agitating  in 
some  ways  than  his  first. 

He  had  been  unnerved  at  the  funeral,  and 
had  felt  remorse  more  keenly  than  he  had 


122  Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days. 

♦ 

once  thought  possible.  As' he  reviewed  the 
events  of  the  day  with  his  wife  he  felt  dis- 
satisfied. And  yet  he  had  truly  tried  to  do 
his  duty  in  the  light  of  eternity.  What  more 
could  he  do  ? 

He  felt  anxious  about  George,  and  told 
his  wife  of  the  conversation  he  had  with  him. 
Mrs.  Hardy  felt  the  same  anxiety  with  her 
husband.  After  the  horses  were  put  up  and 
the  father  and  mother  had  gone  into  the 
house  they  continued  the  conversation. 
Alice  was  upstairs  with  George  and  the  other 
children  had  not  come  back.  It  was  dark, 
but  husband  and  wife  sat  by  the  light  of  the 
open  fire  and  talked  together  until  nearly  six 
o’clock.  Mr.  Hardy  had  just  said  some- 
thing about  Clara,  and  Mrs.  Hardy  replied, 
‘'Isn’t  it  about  time  they  were  here?”  when 
the  telephone  bell  rang  in  the  little  office  ad- 
joining the  hallway,  where  Mr.  Hardy  did 
some  of  the  business  of  the  company,  being 
connected  by  wire  with  the  shops.  He  went 
in  and  answered  the  call,  and  a series  of 
sharp  exclamations  and  questions  was  soon 


Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days.  123 

followed  by  his  coming  back  into  the  room 
where  his  wife  sat.  By  the  light  of  the  open 
fire  she  could  see  that  he  was  very  pale. 
His  overcoat  was  lying  on  the  couch  where 
he  had  thrown  it  as  he  came  in.  He  hastily 
put  it  on,  and  then  said  to  his  wife : 

‘‘Mary,  there  has  been  an  accident  to  the 
six  o'clock  way-train  between  Baldwin  and 
here,  and  Burns  has  telephoned  me  to  come- 
down. Don't  be  alarmed.  We  will  hope 
for  the  best." 

Mrs.  Hardy  started  up. 

‘'Why,  Will  and  Bess  and  Clara  were 
coming  home  on  that  train !'’ 

“Mary,"  Mr.  Hardy's  voice  trembled,  but 
he  tried  to  speak  calmly  and  in  comfort, 
“let  us  hope  for  the  best." 

“What  did  Mr.  Burns  telephone?  Tell 
me  all,  Robert.  I can  bear  it  with  you." 

“He  telephoned  that  the  train  was  derailed 
and  a dozen  people  killed  and  as  many  in- 
jured. I must  go  down  the  road  at  once ! 
Oh,  my  God,  spare  our  dear  ones !" 

Mr.  Hardy  was  almost  overwhelmed  by 


124  Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days. 

this  last  vStroke,  and  yet  he  asked  himself 
how  many  accidents  had  occurred  this  last 
year  on  the  road  and  he  had  never  given 
much  thought  to  the  suffering  of  those  fami- 
lies afflicted!  Now,  perhaps,  it  had  come  to 
him,  and  bidding  his  wife  pray  and  hope,  he 
rushed  out  of  the  house  and  down  to  the 
station  with  the  energy  and  rapidity  of  the 
youth  who  in  college  days  had  taken  prizes 
for  athletic  superiority. 

At  the  yard  he  found  a special  train  just 
ready  to  go  to  the  scene  of  the  accident.  It 
consisted  of  a wrecking  car,  a caboose,  and 
one  coach  with  tender  and  engine.  He 
mounted  the  engine  with  a feeling  that  it  was 
a little  nearer  the  fatal  spot  and  would  reach 
there  first.  At  the  last  minute  no  more 
definite  news  concerning  the  particular  per- 
sons killed  and  injured  had  been  received. 

Mr.  Hardy  felt  almost  glad  of  the  uncer- 
tainty as  the  engine  pulled  out  and  started 
on  its  run  of  fifteen  miles,  soon  attaining  a 
speed  of  fifty-five  miles  an  hour.  The  snow 
was  falling  in  large,  moist  flakes.  It  was 


Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days.  125 

growing  warmer  and  would  rain  before 
morning.  He  gazed  at  the  narrow  band  of 
light  on  the  track  ahead,  and  leaned  forward 
as  if  to  help  the  engine  go  faster.  He  did 
not  speak,  and  so  the  train  rushed  through 
the  night. 

And  so  the  second  of  Robert  Hardy^s 
seven  days  drew  to  a close. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


As  the  engine  drew  near  the  scene  of  the 
wreck  a great  crowd  could  be  seen  stand- 
ing about  the  track.  Before  the  train  came 
to  a stop  Robert  Hardy  leaped  down  from 
the  cab  and  struggled  forward,  uttering  cries 
of  which  he  himself  probably  was  not  con- 
scious. The  accident  had  occurred  upon  a 
bridge  which  spanned  a small  river  in  the 
vicinity  of  Baldwin,  near  which  town  Mr. 
Hardy's  brother  lived. 

The  engine,  mail  car,  two  day  coaches,  and 
two  sleepers  had  crashed  through,  and,  fall- 
ing a distance  of  fifty  feet,  had  partly  broken 
through  the  ice  of  the  frozen  stream.  To 
add  to  the  horror  of  the  disaster,  the  two 
sleepers  had  caught  fire,  and  there  was  abso- 
lutely no  means  to  fight  it.  Mr.  Hardy 
caught  confused  glimpses  of  men  down  on 
the  ice  throwing  handfuls  of  snow  upon  the 
blazing  timbers  in  a frantic  attempt  to  drive 


Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days.  127 

back  or  put  out  the  flames.  He  fell,  rather 
than  scrambled,  down  the  steep,  slippery 
bank  of  the  stream,  and  then  the  full  horror 
of  the  situation  began  to  dawn  upon  him. 

The  baggage  car  and  tender  had  fallen  in 
such  a way  that  the  trucks  rested  upright 
^ the  ice,  and  the  position  of  the  timbers 
was  relatively  that  of  the  train  before  it  had 
left  the  track.  One  day-coach  lay  upon  its 
side,  but  had  broken  completely  in  two,  as 
if  some  giant  hand  had  pulled  it  apart,  leav- 
ing the  ragged  ends  of  timbers  projecting 
toward  one  another  in  such  curious  fashion 
that  if  the  two  ends  of  the  car  had  been 
pushed  toward  the  middle,  the  splintered 
beams  would  have  fitted  into  place  almost  as 
if  made  on  a pattern.  The  other  day-coach 
had  fallen  upon  one  end,  and  one-third  of  the 
entire  coach  was  under  water.  The  other 
end,  resting  partly  against  the  broken  car, 
stuck  up  in  the  air  like  some  curious,  fantas- 
tic pillar  or  leaning  tower. 

Mr.  Hardy  was  conscious  of  all  this  and 
more  as  he  heard  the  groans  of  the  injured 


128  Robert  HardyPs  Seven  Days. 

and  the  cries  of  those  begging  to  be  released 
from  the  timbers  under  which  they  had  been 
caught.  But  his  own  children ! Never  had 
he  loved  them  as  now. 

The  crowd  of  people  had  increased  to  a 
mob.  The  confusion  was  that  of  terror. 
Mr.  Hardy  rushed  about  the  wreck  search- 
ing for  his  children,  a great  throbbing  at  his 
heart  as  he  thought  of  their  probable  fate, 
when  the  sweetest  of  all  sounds,  Bessie’s 
dear  voice,  came  to  him,  and  the  next  min- 
ute he  had  caught  up  the  child  as  she  ran  to 
him  and  strained  her  to  his  breast  as  in 
the  old  days  when  he  had  carried  her  about 
the  house  and  yard. 

Where  are  Will  and  Clara?” 

‘‘Oh,  father,  they’re  here ! and  Will  wasn’t 
hurt  much  more  than  I was;  but  Clara  has 
fainted,  and  she  is  lying  down  over  here.” 
Bess  dragged  her  father  out  across  the  ice 
to  the  edge  of  the  bank,  where  a number  of 
the  victims  had  been  laid  on  the  cushions  of 
the  seats,  some  dead,  some  dying.  There 
lay  Clara,  very  white  and  still,  with  Will 


Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days.  1 29 

bending  over  her,  himself  bleeding  from  sev- 
eral wounds  about  the  head  and  hands,  but 
still  conscious  and  trying  to  restore  his  sis- 
ter. 

Mr.  Hardy  kneeled  down  in  the  snow  by 
his  son's  side,  and  Will,  seeing  him  there, 
was  not  surprised,  but  he  sobbed  excitedly: 
^‘Oh,  she  is  dead !" 

''No,"  replied  her  father;  "she  is  not." 

Clara  stirred,  and  her  lips  moved ; but  she 
did  not  open  her  eyes,  and  then  her  father 
noticed  that  a strange  mark  lay  over  her 
face. 

How  Mr.  Hardy  succeeded  in  carrying 
the  girl  to  the  top  of  the  bank ; how  he  left 
her  there  in  the  care  of  brave-hearted  women 
while  he  went  down  into  that  hell's  pit  to 
rescue  victims  imprisoned  and  groaning  for 
help;  how  Bess  related  the  accident  of  the 
night  and  tried  to  explain  how  she  was  not 
hurt  except  a scratch  or  two,  because  she 
fell  between  two  car-seat  cushions  that  were 
jammed  around  her  and  protected  her  from 


130  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

injury;  how  the  excitement  grew  as  it  was 
discovered  that  the  dead  and  dying  would 
number  more  than  seventy-five,  instead  of 
ten  or  twelve,  as  Burns  had  telephoned ; how 
finally  Robert  Hardy  and  Will  and  Bess  and 
Clara,  with  other  victims,  were  taken  back 
to  Barton,  where  a great  crowd  of  anxious, 
pale-faced  people  was  surging  through  the 
station  and  over  the  track ; how  James  Cax- 
ton  was  first  to  board  the  train  down  by  the 
shops,  at  the  risk  of  his  neck,  as  in  the  rainy 
darkness  he  swung  himself  on  the  dead  run 
up  to  the  platform  of  the  coach ; how  Mrs. 
Hardy  met  her  children  and  husband;  how 
there  was  sprrow  in  many  a home  in  Barton 
that  night  and  for  many  days  to  come ; how 
Mr.  Hardy  finally,  a little  after  midnight,  en- 
tirely exhausted  by  the  events  of  the  day  and 
night,  finally  fell  asleep  and  dreamed  the 
scene  all  over  again — all  this  and  a great 
deal  more  might  be  of  interest  concerning 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  railroad  acci- 
dents that  ever  occurred  in  this  country,  but 
would  be  out  of  place  in  this  narrative.  For 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  13 1 


detailed  horrors  of  it  no  pen  can  describe, 
no  words  can  tell. 

Mr.  Hardy  woke  about  eight  o'clock, 
rested,  but  feeling  very  lame  and  sore  from 
his  exertions  of  the  night.  His  first  thought 
was  of  Clara.  When  he  went  to  sleep  the 
girl  seemed  to  be  resting  without  pain,  only 
that  strange  mark  across  her  face  made  them 
all  anxious.  It  was  not  a bruise,  but  it  lay 
like  a brand  across  the  eyes,  which  had  not 
opened  since  her  father  found  her  lying  by 
the  frozen  stream. 

James  had  insisted  on  staying  in  the  house 
to  be  of.  service,  and  Mrs.  Hardy  had  felt 
grateful  for  his  presence  as  she  watched  for 
returning  consciousness  from  Clara,  who 
still  gave  no  more  sign  of  animation,  al- 
though she  breathed  easily  and  seemed  to  be 
free  from  pain.  Every  doctor  and  surgeon 
in  town  had  been  summoned  to  the  scene  of 
the  accident.  But  Mr.  Hardy  felt  so  anx- 
ious for  Clara  as  he  came  in  and  looked  at 
her  that  he  went  downstairs  and  asked  James 


it  is  all  true,  exactly 


132  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

if  he  wouldnX^un  out  and  see  if  any  of  the 
doctors  had  returned. 

''Yes,  sir;  Til  go  at  once.  How  is  she 
now,  Mr.  Hardy?’'  James  looked  him  in  the 
face  with  the  look  that  love  means  when  it  is 
true  and  brave. 

"My  boy,”  replied  Mr.  Hardy,  laying  his 
hand  on  James’ ' shoulder,  "I  don't  know. 
There  is  something  strange  about  it.  Get  a 
doctor,  if  you  can.  But  I know  there  must 
be  many  other  sad  homes  to-day  in  Barton. 
Oh,  it  was  horrible !” 

He  sat  down  and  covered  his  face,  while 
James  with  a brief  "God  help  us,  sir!”  went 
out  in  search  of  a doctor. 

]\Tr.  Hardy  went  upstairs  again,  and  with 
his  wife  kneeled  down  and  offered  a prayer 
of  thanksgiving  and  of  appeal.  "O  Lord,” 
said  Robert,  "grant  that  this  dear  one  of 
ours  may  be  restored  to  us  again.  Spare  us 
this  anguish,  not  in  return  for  our  goodness, 
but  out  of  Thy  great  compassion  for  our  sins 
repented  of!” 

Will  and  Bess  lay  in  the  next  room,  and 


Robert  Hardyi^s  Seven  Days.  133 

now  that  the  reaction  had  set  in  they  were 
sleeping,  Will  feverish  and  restless,  Bess 
quite  peaceful,  as  if  nothing  had  happened 
out  of  the  usual  order  of  things. 

‘‘Where  is  George?’’  asked  Mr.  Hardy  as 
he  rose  from  his  prayer. 

“I  don’t  know,  Robert.  He  started  down 
to  the  train  a little  while  after  you  did. 
Haven’t  you  seen  him?” 

“No,  Mary.  God  grant  he  may  not ” 

Mr.  Hardy  did  not  dare  finish  his  thought 
aloud. 

His  wife  guessed  his  thought,  and  together 
the  two  sat  hand  in  hand,  drawn  very  near 
by  their  mutual  trouble  and  by  all  the  strange 
events  of  that  strange  week;  and  together 
they  talked  of  the  accident  and  of  Clara  and 
James  and  their  oldest  son ; and  then  Mrs. 
Hardy  said,  as  she  tremblingly  drew  her 
husband’s  face  near  to  her ; 

“Robert,  do  you  still  have  that  impression 
concerning  the  time  left  you  here  to  live? 
Do  you  still  think  this  week  is  to  be  the 
end  ?” 


134  Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days. 

Mrs.  Hardy  had  a vague  hope  that  the 
shock  of  the  accident  might  have  destroyed 
the  impression  of  the  dream ; but  her  hope 
was  disappointed. 

'‘My  dear  wife/’  replied  Robert,  "there  is 
not  the  least  doubt  in  my  mind  that  my 
dream  was  a vision  of  what  will  happen. 
There  is  no  question  but  that  after  Sunday 
I shall  not  be  with  you.  This  is  Wednes- 
day. How  lightning-like  the  days  have 
flown ! How  precious  the  moments  are ! 
How  many  of  them  I have  wasted  in  foolish 
selfishness ! Mary,  I should  go  mad  with 
the  thought  if  I did  not  feel  the  necessity  of 
making  this  week  the  best  week  of  my  life; 
only,  I do  not  know  what  is  most  important 
to  do.  If  it  had  been  seven  months,  or  even 
seven  weeks,  I might  have  planned  more 
wisely.  Oh,  it  is  cruelly  brief,  the  time ! 
But  I must  make  the  wisest  possible  use  of 
it.  This  accident,  so  unexpected,  has  com- 
plicated the  matter.  I had  not  reckoned  on 
it.”  ^ 

How  many  of  us  do  reckon  on  acci- 


Robert  Hardy'^s  Seven  Days,  135 

dents?  They  always  come  into  our  lives 
with  a shock.  Yet  it  seems  possible  that  a 
man  who  lives  very  close  to  God  every  day 
might  be  so  ready  for  everything  that  not 
even  the  most  terrible  catasti;ophe  could 
make"  m.uch  difference  to  his  plans  jor  daily 
life,  least  of  all  deprive  him  of  his  reason,  as 
it  has  so  often  done.  Robert  Hardy  was  just 
beginning  to  realize  dimly  that  life  is  not 
one  thing,  but  many  things,  and  that  its  im- 
portance is  the  importance  which  belongs  to 
the  character  of  God  himself.  < 

He  began  to  talk  calmly  with  his  wife  con- 
cerning what  he  would  do  that  day,  and  was 
still  talking  about  it  when  James  came  in 
with  a doctor,  who  at  once  went  upstairs. 
He  was  just  from  the  scene  of  the  accident, 
and  bore  marks  of  a hard  night’s  work.  His 
first  glance  at  Clara  was  hard  and  profes- 
sional. But  as  he  looked  he  grew  very 
grave,  and  an  expression  of  serious  surprise 
came  over  his  weary  face.  He  laid  his  hands 
on  the  girl’s  eyes  and  examined  them ; raised 
her  hand  and  dropped  it  upon  the  bed  again. 


136  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

Then  turning  to  the  father  and  mother  he 
said,  gently: 

‘'You  must  prepare  yourselves  for  a ter- 
rible fact  resulting  from  the  accident  to  your 
daughter.  She  has  suffered  a shock  that 
will  probably  render  her  blind  as  long  as  she 
lives.’' 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hardy  listened,  pale-faced 
and  troubled.  It  was  hard  to  think  of  the 
girl,  so  strong-willed,  so  passionate,  and  yet 
so  capable  of  noble  impulses  and  loving  de- 
sires, as  all  her  life  shut  up  within  the  dark- 
ness thus.  It  was  bitter  to  think  of  this  for 
her.  What  would  it  be  to  her  when  she 
awr4<e  to  the  whole  consciousness  of  it? 

The  doctor  spoke  again  slowly:  “There  is 
another  thing  you  ought  to  be  prepared  for. 
In  rare  cases  like  this,  it  happens  some- 
times that  a loss  of  hearing  accompanies  the 
loss  of  sight.”  Then  after  a pause,  “And 
with  the  loss  of  sight  and  hearing  it  is  pos- 
sible the  peculiar  shock  has  deprived  your 
daughter  of  the  power  of  speech.  I do  not 


Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Duys.  137 

know  yet  whether  this  has  happened,  but  I 
prepare  you  for  the  worst/’ 

'‘Blind  and  deaf  and  dumb !”  murmured 
Mr.  Hardy,  while  his  wife  sat  down  and  bur- 
ied her  face  in  the  bed-clothes  and  sobbed. 
It  seemed  terrible  to  them. 

The  doctor,  after  a little  further  examina- 
tion, said  nothing  more  could  be  done  at 
present,  gave  directions  for  certain  neces- 
sary treatment  and  departed  after  giving  a 
look  at  Will  and  Bess  and  prescribing  for 
them. 

Mr.  Hardy  went  downstairs  and  quietly 
told  James  all  that  the  doctor  had  said.  To 
a man  living  on  the  verge  of  eternity,  as  Mr. 
Hardy  was,  there  was  no  time  for  evasions 
or  the  postponing  of  bad  news  or  the  utter- 
ance of  soft  speeches. 

James  took  the  news  more  calmly  than 
Mr.  Hardy  thought  he  would.  It  was  evi- 
dent he  did  not  realize  all  that  was  meant  by 
it. 

"Can  you  love  Clara  under  these  condi- 
tions?” asked  Mr.  Hardy,  looking  at  James 


138  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

with  a sympathy  that  the  young  man  could 
not  help  feeling. 

*'Yes,  sir;  more  than  ever.  Why,  is  she 
not  more  in  need  of  it  than  ever?’’ 

''True;  but  what  can  you  do  with  a help- 
less creature  like  that?” 

"God  help  us,  sir!  If  she  were  my  wife 
now  and  were  dependent  on  me,  don’t  you 
think  I could  care  for  her  tenderly,  better 
than  any  one  else  in  the  world?” 

Mr.  Hardy  shook  his  head.  "This  is  a 
hard  blow  to  me,  James.  I don’t  know  just 
what  to  say  yet.  But  it  is  possible  the  poor 
girl  may  not  have  to  suffer  all  that.  Let  us 
hope  the  doctor  is  not  justified  in  his  sup- 
position. Indeed,  he  said  he  could  not  tell 
for  certain  that  loss  of  hearing  and  speech 
would  follow.  If  they  do,  I cannot  see  how 
Clara  can  retain  her  reason  when  she  re- 
covers from  the  shock.  James,  I believe 
you  are  a good  fellow.  I have  not  forgot- 
ten my  own  courtship.  I will  not  stand  in 
the  way  between  you  and  your  love  for  Clara 
in  anything  right  and  reasonable.  I had 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  139 

hoped  we  mi^t  have  a good  talk  together 
over  the  matter.  This  accident  has  made  it 
impossible  for  a time,  at  least ; but  I confide 
in  you  as  an  honest,  true  man.  We  must 
wait  for  events  to  take  shape.  Meanwhile, 
let  us  pray  God  to  give  us  wisdom  and  lead 
us  into  the  way  we  need  to  go.’’ 

James  Caxton  listened  to  Mr.  Hardy  with 
a feeling  of  astonishment.  This  was  not  the 
Robert  Hardy  he  had  known  all  his  life ; this 
was  a new  man.  For  a moment  his  own 
hopes  and  fears  were  almost  lost  sight  of  in 
the  thought  of  the  great  change  in  the  elder 
man.  In  a tumult  of  feeling  he  went  home, 
after  begging  Mrs.  Hardy  to  send  him  word 
if  Clara  became  worse  or  if  there  were  any 
service  he  could  render  the  family. 

Robert  went  back  upstairs  where  his  wife 
sat  by  the  side  of  the  injured  girl. 

''Mary,”  he  said,  "I  must  go  down  to  the 
shops.  You  know  I left  word  with  Well- 
man to  do  what  he  could  in  the  office  until 
I could  get  down ; but  this  accident  has  made 
it  imperative  that  I be  there  myself.  There 


140  Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days. 

are  details  the  men  cannot  attend  to.  I can- 
not do  any  more  here,  and  I must  do  what  I 
can  for  the  sufferers.  God  has  been  merciful 
to  us,  dear.  Our  dear  ones  are  spared  to  us. 
Oh,  when  I heard  Bessie’s  voice  in  that  helhs 
pit  it  seemed  to  me  God  was  taking  pity  on 
me  for  the  burden  I am  carrying  this  week! 
And  if  she  had  been  killed,  I do  believe  I 
should  have  gone  mad.  Pray  for  me,  sweet- 
heart!” 

And  with  a kiss  and  embrace  Robert  left 
the  house ; and  even  in  the  sorrow  of  all  her 
trouble  Mrs.  Hardy  felt  a great  wave  of  joy 
flow  through  her  at  the  thought  of  a love 
come  back  to  her,  and  as  she  went  to  the 
window  and  watched  the  tall,  strong  figure 
swing  down  the  street,  she  almost  felt  a girl 
again,  and  wondered  if  he  would  turn  around 
and  see  her  there  and  toss  his  hat  to  her  a.s 
in  the  old  days.  Yes ; just  before  he  reached 
the  corner  where  he  had  to  turn  he  looked 
back  up  at  the  window,  saw  his  wife  stand- 
ing there,  and  took  off  his  hat  with  a smile, 
and  she  waved  her  hand  at  him  and  colored 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  14 1 

as  when  her  Robert  used  to  do  the  same 
thing  while  he  was  courting  her. 

''Two  fools !’’  somebody  says.  Yes;  two  ' 
children  of  God,  who  have  seen  His  face  and 
learned  what  all  this  life  means. 

He  found  much  to  do  at  the  shops.  The 
accident  necessitated  special  work.  It 
looked  to  him  as  if  he  must  be  down  there 
all  dayr  There  was  almost  a panic  in  the 
planing-rooms.  The  air  was  heavy  with  the 
horror  of  the  night  before.  Owing  to  the 
wreck,  there  was  more  need  of  work  in  the 
shops  than  ever;  but  along  toward  noon 
Burns  came  into  the  office,  pulling  a long 
face,  and  asking  Mr.  Hardy  to  step  across 
the  yard  and  talk  to  the  men,  who  had 
threatened.  Burns  said,  to  do  mischief  if  they 
were  not  given  the  afternoon  to  go  down  to 
the  scene  of  the  disaster.  Mr.  Hardy,  with 
a sinking  heart,  rose  and  followed  Burns 
into  the  planing-rooms.  He  told  the  fore- 
man to  get  the  men  together  in  the  centre 
of  the  room.  They  stopped  their  machines 
and  gathered  in  the  largest  open  space  be- 


142  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

tween  the  planers,  and  Mr.  Hardy  addressed 
them : 

'‘What  do  you  want?  Burns  tells  me 
there  is  dissatisfaction.  Speak  out  so  that 
we  may  know  what  the  trouble  is/’ 

There  .was  an  awkward  pause.  Then  one 

'i 

man  spoke  up: 

"We  think  the  company  ought  to  give  us 
the  day  off.” 

"What  for?”  asked  Mr.  Hardy  mildly. 

Under  any  other  circumstances  he  would 
have  told  the  men  they  might  leave  for  good 
if  they  didn’t  like  the  pay  and  the  company. 
He  had  done  just  that  thing  twice  before; 
but  things  were  different  now.  He  looked 
at  the  men  in  a new  light.  He  was  a new 
man  himself.  Besides,  it  was  imperative 
that  the  work  in  the  shops  go  on.  The 
company  could  ill  afford  to  lose  the  work 
just  at  this  particular  time.  All  these  con- 
siderations did  not  blind  Robert  to  his  ob- 
ligations as  an  officer  of  the  company.  He 
was  only  anxious  that  no  injustice  should  be 


Robert  Hardyh  Seven  Days,  143 

done,  so  he  said,  ‘'What  for?’"  mildly  and 
quietly,  and  waited  for  an  answer. 

The  spokesman  was  not  quite  ready  with 
an  answer.  The  directness  of  the  question 
and  the  mildness  of  it  also  surprised  him. 
Another  man  spoke  up : 

“Our  friends  was  in  the  accident.  We 
want  to  go  see  them.’’ 

“Very  well.  How  many  men  had  rela- 
tives or  friends  in  the  accident  who  are  in- 
jured or  killed?  Let  them  step  forward.” 
There  was  a moment  of  inaction.  Then 
three  men  stepped  out.  Mr.  Hardy  said: 
“You  may  go  if  you  want  to.  Why  didn’t 
you  ask  for  leave  off  if  you  wanted  it  ? What 
reason  have  you  to  suppose  the  company 
would  refuse  such  a request?  Now,  what 
is  the  trouble  with  the  rest?  The  company 
is  not  in  a position  to  grant  a holiday  at  this 
particular  time,  and  you  know  it.  Come,  be 
fair,  men!  I can’t  shut  down  the  shops  all 
day  to  let  you  go  and  see  a railroad  wreck. 
Be  reasonable!  What  do  you  want?” 

“We  want  more  pay  and  freedom  from 


144  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

Sunday  work,”  said  a big  fellow,  the  Nor- 
wegian who  ran  the  biggest  planer  in  the 
shop.  He  had  more  than  once  proved 
troublesome  to  Burns,  but  he  was  a remark- 
ably intelligent  and  skillful  workman,  and 
the  foreman  had  endured  much  irritation  on 
that  account. 

Mr.  Hardy  replied,  still  speaking  pleas- 
antly: ‘‘The  matter  of  more  pay  is  one  we 
cannot  well  discuss  here  now,  but  I will  say 
to  you  and  all  the  rest  that  as  far  as  it  is  in 
my  power  there  shall  be  no  more  Sunday 
work  demanded” — “while  I live,”  Mr.  Hardy 
was  on  the  point  of  saying;  but  he  said  in- 
stead, “of  the  men  in  the  shops.” 

“Still,  that  is  not  the  question,”  replied  the 
man  in  an  insolent  tone.  Mr.  Hardy  looked 
at  him  more  closely  and  saw  that  he  had 
been  drinking.  Several  of  the  workmen 
cried  out: 

“Shut  up,  Herman ! Mr.  Hardy  be  right ; 
we  be  fools  to  make  row  now  at  this  time.” 

A dozen  men  started  for  their  machines 
to  go  to  work  again,  while  Burns  went  up 


Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days.  145 

and  laid  his  hand  on  the  Norwegian's  arm 
and  said  to  him  roughly : 

“Quit  off  now.  You've  been  dipping  that 
beard  of  yours  into  a whiskey  barrel.  Bet« 
ter  mind  your  pegs,  or  you  get  your  walking 
papers." 

“Mind  your  own,  Burns,"  replied  the  big 
man  heavily.  “You  be  somethings  of  a 
beard  drinker  yourself,  if  you  had  the 
beard." 

Burns  was  so  enraged  at  the  drunken  re- 
tort that  he  drew  back  as  if  to  strike  the 
man,  when  the  Norwegian  smote  the  fore- 
man a blow  that  laid  him  sprawling  in  the 
iron  dust.  Instantly  Mr.  Hardy  stepped  up 
between  the  two  men  before  Burns  could 
rise.  We  have  spoken  of  Robert's  intense 
horror  of  the  coarse,  physical  vices.  It 
seemed  totally  wrong  to  him  that  a work- 
man should  degrade  himself  with  drink. 
Besides,  he  could  not  tolerate  such  actions 
in  the  shops.  He  looked  the  drunken  man 
in  the  face  and  said  sternly : 

“You  are  discharged!  I cannot  afford  to 


146  Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days. 

employ  driinlcen  men  in  these  shops.  You 
may  go  this  instant?’' 

The  man  leered  at  Mr.  Hardy,  raised  his 
arm  as  if  to  strike,  while  the  manager  con- 
fronted him  with  a stern  look ; but  before  he 
could  do  any  harm  two  or  three  of  the  men 
seized  him  and  hustled  him  back  to  the  other 
end  of  the  shops,  while  Burns  rose,  vowing 
vengeance. 

The  men  went  back  to  their  machines,  and 
Mr.  Hardy,  with  an  anxious  feeling  of  heart, 
went  back  into  the  office,  satisfied  that  there 
would  be  no  trouble  at  the  shops  for  the  rest 
of  the  day,  at  least.  He  felt  sorry  that  he 
had  been  obliged  to  discharge  Herman,  but 
he  felt  that  he  had  done  the  right  thing. 
The  company  could  not  afford,  in  any  way, 
to  employ  men  who  were  drunkards,  es- 
pecially not  just  at  this  time,  when  it  began 
to  be  more  than  plainly  hinted  that  the  re- 
sult of  the  accident  on  the  road  was  due  to 
the  partial  intoxication  of  a track  inspector. 

That  accident  was  a complication  in 
Robert  Hardy’s  Seven  Days.  It  was  de- 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  147 

manding  of  him  precious  time  that  he  longed 
to  spend  in  his  family.  At  one  time  in  the 
afternoon  as  he  worked  at  the  office,  Mr. 
Hardy  was  tempted  to  resign  his  position 
and  go  home,  come  what  might.  But,  to 
his  credit  be  it  said,  even  in  his  most  selfish 
moments  formerly,  he  had  been  faithful  to 
his  duties  at  the  office.  At  present  no  one 
could  take  his  place  at  once.  He  felt  that 
his  duty  to  the  company  and  to  the  public 
demanded  his  services  at  the  time  of  a crisis 
in  railroad  matters.  So  he  stayed  and 
worked  on,  praying  as  he  worked  for  his 
dear  ones,  and  hoping,  as  no  bad  news  came 
from  home,  that  Clara  was  better.  He  had 
been  to  the  telephone  several  times  and  had 
two  or  three  short  talks  with  his  wife;  and 
now,  as  it  began  to  grow  dark  in  the  office, 
just  as  the  lights  were  turned  on,  the  bell 
rang  again,  and  Mrs.  Hardy  called  him  up 
to  tell  him  that  the  minister,  Mr.  Jones,  had 
called  and  wanted  to  see  him  about  some  of 
the  families  that  were  injured  in  the  accident 
at  the  foundry  room. 


148  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

‘"Tell  Mr.  Jones  I will  try  to  see  him  at 
the  meeting  to-night.’’  (In  Barton  the 
church  meeting  fell  on  Wednesday.)  ^^And 
tell  him  I will  have  something  to  give  him 
for  what  he  wants.  How  is  Clara  now  ?” 
‘‘No  change  yet.  Will  is  suffering  some 
from  nervousness.  He  says  he  had  a hor- 
rible dream  of  the  accident  this  afternoono 
Bess  is  about  the  same.  Her  escape  was  a 
miracle.” 

“Has  George  come  home  yet?” 

“No;  I am  getting  anxious  about  him.  I 
wish  you  would  inquire  about  him  at  the 
Bramleys  as  you  come  up  to  supper.” 

“I  will.  I must  leave  very  soon.  This 
has  been  a terrible  day  down  here.  God 
keeps  us.  Good-by.”^ 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


Robert  finished  most  of  the  work,  toiling 
as  never  in  all  his  life  before,  and  started 
for  home  at  six.  On  the  way  he  made  in- 
quiries concerning  George,  but  nobody  had 
seen  him  since  the  evening  before.  When 
he  reached  the  house,  he  found  that  his  wife, 
utterly  worn  out,  had  lain  down  for  a little 
sleep,  and  Alice  was  caring  for  the  patients 
with  a calm  courage  and  quiet  cheerfulness 
that  revealed  the  girl’s  strong,  self-reliant 
character.  Clara’s  condition  had  not  chang- 
ed. She  still  lay  as  if  sleeping.  Alice  re- 
ported that  once  in  the  afternoon  she  had 
moved  her  lips  and  distinctly  called  for 
water.  Mr.  Hardy  and  Bess  sat  down  to 
the  supper  table  by  themselves,  and  Bess 
again  told  how  she  had  been  saved  from  even 
a scratch  in  that  terrible  fall.  It  was,  in- 
deed, remarkable  that  the  child  did  not  seem 
to  suffer  even  from  the  general  shock  and  re- 
action from  the  disaster. 


150  Robert  HardyPs  Seven  Days, 

After  a brief  meal,  Mr.  Hardy  went  up- 
stairs to  Clara  again.  His  chief  anxiety  now 
was  for  her.  He  believed  that  if  the  doc- 
tor's fears  were  realized,  she  would  become 
insane.  It  was  not  possible  that  a person  of 
her  temperament  and  passion  could  be 
otherwise  in  case  she  should  come  to  con- 
sciousness of  her  condition. 

As  the  evening  wore  on,  Mr.  Hardy  felt 
that  his  duty  lay  in  his  own  home  for  that 
night,  and  he  would  have  to  see  his  minister 
some  other  time.  He  thought  of  the  prayer 
meeting  with  regret,  and  sat  by  the  bed  of 
the  unconscious  girl,  wondering  how  it  was 
possible  that  for  all  these  years  gone  by  he 
had  been  so  indifferent  to  one  of  the  best  and 
most  precious  opportunities  for  growing  in 
spiritual  manhood.  He  heard  the  bell  ring 
for  service,  and  when  it  stopped  he  sat  with 
his  face  in  his  hands  praying. 

The  prayer  meeting  in  Mr.  Jones'  church 
was  generally  a very  quiet  affair.  A good 
many  people  in  the  church,  especially  those 
who  came  to  the  meeting  only  occasionally. 


Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days.  15 1 

thought  it  was  stupid.  But  it  was  a notice- 
able fact  that  those  who  attended  regularly 
were  the  ones  who  did  the  most  work  in  the 
church,  and  the  ones  who  grew  stronger  and 
sweeter  in  the  Christian  life.  There  was 
usually  no  regular  subject  given  out.  There 
was  very  little  talking  done.  From  begin- 
ning to  close  it  was  nearly  all  prayer.  Mr. 
Jones  did  not  feel  afraid  of  the  long  pauses. 
He  believed  modern  American  life  to  be  so 
full  of  nervousness  and  hurry  that  it  would 
not  hurt  any  one  to  sit  still  and  think  a min- 
ute or  two.  That  was  the  reason  so  many 
people  called  Mr.  Jones’  prayer  meetings 
dull ; because  they  were  not  rushing  all  the 
time  with  sensational  or  exciting  remarks 
and  incidents.  Mr.  Jones  didn’t  believe  that 
was  what  a prayer  meeting  was  for,  and  he 
planned  for  it  accordingly.  But  this  par- 
ticular evening  was  an  exception.  The  great 
railroad  accident  so  near  them  had  stirred 
the  entire  community  to  its  sympathetic 
depths.  Several  families  in  Mr.  Jones’ 
church  had  been  sufferers.  As  if  by  tacit 


152  Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days. 

consent,  there  was  an  unusually  large  gather- 
ing at  the  church,  and  the  subjcet  was  of  ne- 
cessity the  recent  disaster.  It  was  a spon- 
taneous meeting.  The  minister  briefly 
opened  with  the  expressed  desire  that  God 
would  bless  the  suffering,  prepare  the  dying, 
and  comfort  the  living,  and  almost  instantly 
a service  of  prayer  began,  which  was  like  a 

flood  in  its  continuous  putpouring.  The 

% 

people  seemed  urged  by  some  irresistible 
feeling  to  relieve  the  pent-up  strain  of  the 
day  in  prayer;  and  such  prayers  had  not 
been  heard  in  that  church  for  many  years. 

A similar  scene  was  witnessed  near  the 
White  River  Junction  railroad  disaster  in 
1887,  in  a church  near  the  accident.  The 
entire  morning  service  was  given  up  to 
prayer,  which  seemed  the  only  healthy  re- 
lief to  people  suffering  from  an  overwhelm- 
ing horror. 

It  was  during  the  first  pause  that  occurred 
that  James  Caxton  opened  the  door  and 
gave  a note  to  some  one  in  the  back  seat, 
with  a request  that  it  be  sent  up  to  Mr. 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  153 


Jones.  He  then  turned  as  if  to  go  out,  but 
hesitated,  came  back,  and  slipped  into  a va- 
cant seat  and  waited.  Mr.  Jones  received 
the  note,  glanced  at  its  contents  and  then 
rose.  There  was  a singular  emotion  in  his 
voice  as  he  spoke. 

‘T  have  just  been  handed  a note  from  one 
of  our  members,  Mr.  Robert  Hardy,  with 
the  request  that  I read  it  aloud  to  the  church 
to-night : 

To  yody  my  dear  pastor,  and  you,  my 
brothers  and  sisters  in  Christ: — I suppose 
it  is  known  to  most  of  you  that  three  of  my 
children  were  on  the  train  during  the  recent 
accident,  and  two  of  them  escaped  with  but 
slight  injuries.  But  my  daughter  Clara  was 
seriously  injured  by  the  shock,  and  I am  at 
this  moment  seated  by  her  side,  praying  that 
her  reason  may  -be  spared  and  her  possible 
injuries  prove  to  be  within  the  region  of 
cure,  I had  planned  to  be  with  you  to-night. 
I wanted  to  tell  the  church  of  the  change 
that  I have  lately  experienced.  I do  not 


154  Robert  Hardy s Seven  Days. 

need  to  tell  you  that  for  the  twenty-five  years 
that  I have  been  a member  of  the  church  I 
have  been  a member  only  in  name.  I have 
seldom  appeared  in  any  of  the  spiritual  or 
devotional  services  of  the  church.  I have 
often  sat  in  an  attitude  of  criticism  to  the 
best  preaching.  I have  been  a hard  man 
with  those  in  my  employ.  I have  been  cold 
and  even  revengeful  toward  other  members 
of  this  church.  I have  been  a very  proud, 
unchristian,  selfish  man.  In  the  sight  of 
God  I have  been  an  altogether  unworthv 
member  of  the  Church  of  Christ.  I do  not 
take  any  pride  to  myself  in  making  this  con- 
fession, but  I feel  that  it  is  due  to  you,  and 
something  tells  me  I shall  have  more  peace 
of  mind  if  I speak  to  you  as  I have  lately 
prayed  to  God. 

It  is  not  necessary,  neither  have  I time  nor 
strength,  to  tell  you  how  I have  been  brought 
to  see  my  selfishness  in  all  its  enormity.  It 
is  enough  if  I say  to  you  that  I most  sin- 
cerely believe  that  I have  misunderstood 
very  largely  the  right  meaning  of  human  ex- 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  155 

istence.  I want  to  pray  with  you  and  for 
you.  You  will  let  me  say  this  also,  bearing 
with  me,  as  this  may  be  my  last  opportunity 
to  say  to  you  what  lies  in  my  heart : Serve 
the  Church  of  Christ,  all  you  who  have  taken 
upon  you  its  vows,  with  enthusiasm  and  loy- 
alty. Stand  by  the  superintendent  of  the 
Sunday  school ; attend  this  week-night  ser- 
vice when  you  can,  making  it  the  most  im- 
portant service  of  the  week ; and,  more  than 
all,  live  true,  simple,  loving  Christian  lives 
every  day. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  I am  preaching 
like  this  to  you  who  have  probably  done 
your  duty  far  better  than  I ever  did,  but  I 
wish  to  say  what  lies  deep  in  my  heart  to  say 
to-night.  If  there  are  any  young  men  in  the 
meeting  to-night,  I want  to  say  to  them,  Be- 
come Christians  at  the  core — not  in  name 
simply,  as  I have  been  ; and  above  all,  kneel 
down  every  morning,  noon,  and  night  and 
pray  to  God  to  keep  you  from  a selfish  life 

such  a life  as  I have  lived — forgetful  of 
church  vows,  of  the  rights  of  the  working 


156  Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days. 

poor,  of  the  brother  and  sister  in  Christ. 
Yes ; I would  be  willing  that  any  young  man 
might  say,  ''O  Lord,  keep  me  from  living  as 
selfish  and  useless  and  proud  a life  as  Robert 
Hardy  once  lived/'  For  that  is  the  truth, 
No  one  but  God  knows  how  I have  suffered 
at  the  thought  of  the  past;  how  I am  suf- 
fering at  the  present  moment.  I pray  that 
any  who  are  afflicted  at  this  present  time 
may  find  peace  in  Him  who  bore  the  world's 
sorrows  in  His  great  heart  of  love.  If  it 
were  not  for  my  faith  in  my  Saviour  at  this 
time,  I should  be  in  despair.  As  it  is,  I am 
suffering,  but  it  is  not  the  suffering  which 
follows  an  ecfipse  of  hope.  I believe  in  the 
eternal  life  and  in  the  forgiveness  of  sins, 
yea,  even  such  sins  as  mine  have  been.  For- 
give so  much  about  myself  ; it  is  necessary 
under  the  circumstances.  I ask  your 
prayers  for  me  as  your  petitions  go  up  for 
the  afflicted  and  repentant  everywhere.  I 
am,  Your  brother  in  Christ, 

Robert  Hardy. 

The  impression  made  by  the  reading  of 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  157 

this  letter  was  profound.  The  stillness  that 
followed  was  deathlike.  Then  one  of  the 
oldest  men  in  the  room  rose,  and  in  a prayer 
of  great  power,  prayed  for  the  absent  man 
and  thanked  God  for  his  guided  strength. 
The  prayer  was  followed  by  others,  and  then 
one  and  another  of  the  members,  who  had 
not  been  on  really  good  terms  with  Mr, 
Hardy,  arose  and  confessed  and  asked  for- 
giveness. The  hearts  of  the  people  were 
greatly  moved.  Mr.  Jones,  contrary  to  his 
usual  habit,  asked,  as  the  meeting  drew  to  a 
close,  if  there  were  any  present  who  wanted 
to  begin  that  Christian  life  at  the  core,  of 
which  Mr.  Hardy  spoke. 

'T  see  a number  here  not  professing  Chris- 
tians. Are  there  any  who  would  like  to  say 
that  they  want  to  become  Christians,  and  will 
try  to  live  the  Christ-life  every  day?'’ 

In  the  pause  that  followed,  James  Caxton, 
who  had  been  sitting  in  the  back  seat,  felt  as 
if  some  power  within  and  without  him  were 
forcing  him  to  his  fe^t.  He  grasped  his 
chair  as  if  to  hold  himself  down;  but  the 


158  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

Holy  Spirit  whispered  to  him,  ‘'Son,  this  will 
be  the  beginning  of  a new  life  to  thee/' 

And  so  James  Caxton  arose  and  said  he 
wanted  to  be  a Christian ; and  from  that  mo- 
ment he  dated  his  strong,  consecrated  life — 
a life  that  bids  fair  to  become  famous  in  the 
world  yet,  and  his  action  was  the  beginning 
of  a new  life  in  that  church  and  community; 
but  we  cannot  dwell  on  that  in  the  course  of 
this  history.  Oh,  Robert  Hardy ! the  good 
God  is  blessing  thee  in  this  thy  week  of  trial ! 
For  was  it  not  thy  word  that  first  started  this 
young,  manly  soul  to  consider  what  he 
owed  to  Jesus  the  Christ? 

To  come  back  to  Robert.  He  had  writ- 
ten the  note,  beginning  it  just  a little  after 
the  bell  ceased  ringing,  and  as  he  finished, 
James  had  come  over  to  see  if  he  could  be  of 
any  service.'  The  church  was  near  by  and 
Mr.  Hardy  asked  him  to  take  the  note  over. 
He  went  over  to  the  church,  with  the  result 
described.  He  did  not  come  back  at  once 
and  Mr.  Hardy  watched  on  with  Alice.  Will 
slept  irregularly,  being  troubled  with  his 


Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days.  1 59 

dreams  of  the  accident.  Mrs.  Hardy  woke 
and  begged  her  husband  to  lie  down  and  get 
a little  rest.  He  did  so,  but  was  aroused 
about  ten  o'clock  by  the  doctor  coming  in. 
He  had  just  finished  a visit  near  by;  he  saw 
the  light  and  was  anxious,  as  the  case  was  an 
extraordinary  one,  to  come  in.  He  exam- 
ined Clara's  face  very  keenly,  and  then  sat 
down  by  the  bed  for  an  instant.  After  giv- 
ing certain  medicines  he  found  that  he  was 
in  need  of  another  article,  which  was  at  his 
house. 

‘‘I  will  go  and  get  it,  doctor.  It's  not  far, 
and  I think  a little  fresh  air  will  do  me  good 
and  help  me  to  remain  awake  better,"  said 
Robert. 

He  went  downstairs,  and  the  doctor  fol- 
lowed him  as  he  went  out  into  the  hall  and 
flung  on  his  overcoat.  Mr.  Hardy  turned 
before  he  opened  the  door: 

‘‘Doctor,  tell  me  the  truth  about  my  girl. 
What  is  her  condition?" 

“It  is  serious;  but  more  than  that  I can- 
not say.  There  is  a possibility  that  by  means 


i6o  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

of  a slight  operation  the  disastrous  conse- 
quences of  the  shock  to  her  eyes  may  be 
averted;  and  it  is  possible  that  the  other  re- 
sults of  which  I hinted  may  be  altogether  dif-^ 
ferent.  It  is  not  in  medical  power  to  decide 
with  certainty/’ 

So  Mr.  Hardy  went  out  into  the  night  with 
a glimmer  of  hope  in  his  breast.  It  was 
snowing  again  and  a strong  wind  was  blow- 
ing, so  he  buttoned  his  big  coat  close  up, 
drew  his  hardown  over  his  brows,  and  lean- 
ing forward,  walked  as  rapidly  as  he  could 
against  the  wind  in  the  direction  of  the  doc- 
tor’s house.  The  streets  were  almost  de- 
serted. The  lights  at  the  corners  flickered 
and  showed  pale  through  the  lamps.  As  he 
turned  down  a narrow  street,  intending  to 
make  a short  cut  across  a park  that  lay  near 
the  doctor’s,  he  was  suddenly  seized  by  three 
or  four  young  men,  and  one  of  them  said  in 
a tone  which  betrayed  a drunken  debauch: 

'‘Hold  up  your  hands  and  deliver!  You’ve 
got  plenty  of  chink  and  we  haven’t!  So  no 
squalling  or  we’ll  shoot  you  for  it.” 


Robert  Hardyh  Seven  Days.  i6i 

Mr.  Hardy  was  taken  completely  by  sur- 
prise. But  he  was  a vigorous,  athletic  man, 
and  his  first  impulse  was  to  shake  himself 
loose,  to  knock  down  two  of  his  assailants 
next  to  him  and  make  a run  for  it.  His  next 
glance,  however,  showed  him  the  nature  of 
the  group  of  young  men.  They  were  not 
professional  robbers,  but  young  men  about 
town  who  had  been  drinking  late  and  were 
evidently  out  on  a lark,  and  were  holding 
him  up  just  for  fun.  Mr.  Hardy  guessed 
exactly  right.  What  could  he  do?  Two  of 
the  young  men  were  known  to  him,  the  sons 
of  the  Bramleys,  who  were  well-to-do  peo- 
ple in  Barton.  Mr.  Hardy's  next  impulse 
was  to  discover  himself  to  them  and  beg 
them  to  quit  such  dangerous  fooling  and  go 
home.  The  three  other  young  men  were  in 
shadow  and  he  could  not  tell  them.  All  this* 
passed  through  his  thought  with  a flash. 
But  before  he  had  time  to  do  anything,  a 
police  officer  sprang  out  of  a doorway  near 
by,  and  the  group  of  young  men,  dropping 
their  hold  of  Mr.  Hardy,  fled  in  different  di- 


1 62  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

rections.  The  officer  made  pursuit,  and 
after  a short  run,  captured  one  of  the  young 
men,  whom,  after  vigorous  resistance,  he 
dragged  back  to  where  Mr.  Hardy  stood,  ex- 
claiming : 

‘'Here's  one  of  the  rascals,  sir  ! I heard 
’em  when  they  held  you  up.  We’ve  been 
looking  for  this  gang  some  time  now.  Just 
identify  this  one,  if  he  is  the  one  that  just 
now  grabbed  ye,  sir.” 

Under  the  light  of  the  lamp  the  policeman 
dragged  the  form  of  his  victim  and  roughly 
struck  up  his  hat.  At  that  instant  Mr. 
Hardy  looked  into  his  face  and  cried  out: 
“George!  Is  it  you?” 

And  the  son  replied  as  he  started  back : 
“Father!” 

The  two  looked  at  each  other  in  silence, 
while  the  snow  fell  in  whirling  flakes  about 
them. 

And  this  was  the  end  of  Robert  Hardy’s 
third  day. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


Mr.  Hardy  looked  at  his  son  sternly, 
standing  at  the  little  distance  off  as  he  had 
recoiled  after  that  first  recognition  of  the 
boy.  It  would  be  difficult  to  describe  his 
emotions.  He  had  never  been  an  affection- 
ate father  to  his  boys.  He  had  generally 
given  them  money  when  they  asked  for  it, 
and  had  not  questioned  them  about  its  use. 
He  was  not  familiar  with  his  older  son's 
habits,  and  only  within  the  last  few  days  had 
he  known  that  he  was  what  the  age  popu- 
larly designates  as  ^‘fast."  He  had  never 
made  a companion  of  his  son;  he  had  not 
grown  up  with  him ; so  that  now  as  he  faced 
him  under  the  strange  circumstances  that 
had  brought  them  together,  he  was  actually 
at  a loss  to  know  what  to  do  or  say.  The 
thought  that  his  son  was  guilty  of  a crime 
which  might  put  him  behind  prison  bars  did 


164  Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days. 

not  yet  occur  to  his  mind.  He  was  only 
conscious  of  a great  longing  to  get  back 
home  and  there  have  a thorough  talk  with 
his  boy,  in  the  hope  of  winning  him  to  bet- 
ter things.  But  he  must  say  something  to 
George. 

The  police  officer  stared  in  wonder  after 
the  first  startled  cry  of  '^Father!’'  on  the  part 
of  the  young  man,  but  he  did  not  loosen  his 
hold  on  him.  He  took  an  extra  twist  in  the 
coat  colar  of  his  captive,  and  looked  sharply 
at  Mr.  Hardy,  as  much  as  to  say:  ‘‘He  may 
be  your  son,  but  he’s  my  victim,  and  I mean 
to  keep  a good  clutch  on  him.” 

George  was  the  first  to  speak : 

“Father,  you  know  I wouldn’t  do  such  a 
thing  really.  We  were  only  out  for  a little 
fun.  We  didn’t  know  you,  of  course.  We 
didn’t  mean  any  real  harm ; we  were  only 
fooling.” 

“It  was  dangerous  fooling,”  replied  his 
father.  He  still  stood  apart  from  the  boy  and 
spoke  quietly,  but  his  face  was  pale  and  his 
heart  was  wrung  with  torture  for  his  first- 


Robert  Hardy s Seven  Days.  165 

born.  Ah,  how  careless  of  him  he  had  been ! 
How  little  companionship  the  two  had  had! 
How  very  little  help  the  boy  had  received 
from  the  man!  Now,  believing  that  only 
four  more  days  lay  before  him  to  use  to  the 
glory  of  God,  Robert  Hardy  felt  the  sting  of 
that  bitterest  of  all  bitter  feelings,  useless  re- 
gret, the  regret  that  does  not  carry  with  it 
any  hope  of  redeeming  a selfish  past. 

After  his  father  had  spoken,  George  sul- 
lenly remained  silent.  Mr.  Hardy  bowed  his 
head  and  seemed  thinking.  The  officer,  who 
had  been  waiting  for  another  move  on  the 
part  of  the  older  man,  said : 

‘‘Well,  we  must  be  moving  on.  It's 
warmer  in  the  lockup  than  out  here ; so  come 
along,  young  fellow,  and  do  your  talking 
to-morrow  morning  with  the  rest  of  the 
drunks  and  disorderlies." 

“Stop!"  cried  Robert  Hardy.  “This  is 
my  son!  Do  you  understand?  What  are 
you  going  to  do  ?" 

“Well,  governor,  that's  a pretty  question 
at  this  time  o'  day.  Do ! Fm  going  to  jug 


1 66  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

him  for  assault  with  intent  to  commit  high- 
way robbery.  It’s  an  affair  for  the  'pen/  I 
can  tell  you.” 

"But  you  heard  him  say  it  was  all  a joke.’' 
"A  pretty  joke  to  try  to  hold  a man  up  on 
the  highway  and  demand  his  money  ! Oh, 
no ! That’s  carrying  a joke  too  far.  I’m 
bound  to  obey  orders.  We’ve  been  after 
this  gang  of  young  chaps  for  a month  now.” 
"But,  officer,  you  don’t  understand;  this 
is  my  son !” 

"Well,  what  of  that?  Don’t  we  jug  sons 
every  day  for  some  deviltry  or  other?  Do 
you  suppose  you  are  the  only  father  whose 
son  is  going  to  the  devil  ?” 

"O  God,  no !”  cried  Mr.  Hardy  with  sud- 
den passion.  "But  this  is  my  older  boy.  It 
would  kill  his  mother  to  have  him  arrested 
and  put  in  jail  for  trying  to  rob  his  own 
father.  Yet  he  was  once  innocent — What 
am  I saying?  He  might  be  now  if  I had 
done  my  duty.” 

Mr.  Hardy  confronted  the  officer  with  a 


Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days.  167 

certain  sorrowful  dignity  which  even  that 
hardened  defender  of  the  law  understood. 

‘'Officer,  let  the  boy  go.  I will  answer  for 
it  if  any  blame  falls  on  you  for  it.  He  was 
not  at  fault  in  this  matter.  He  was  not  the 
one  who  assaulted  me.  He  did  not  touch 
me.  You  could  not  get  a particle  of  testi- 
mony against  him.  . And,  besides  that,  it  is 
necessary  that  he  return  with  me.  This  is  a 
case  for  the  law  of  God;  this  belongs  to  a 
higher  court.’' 

The  officer  hesitated ; Mr.  Hardy  stepped 
nearer  his  son. 

“George,’’  he  said,  as  if  forgetting  for  a 
moment  that  the  officer  was  present,  “did 
you  know  that  Clara  and  Bess  and  Will  were 
in  the  accident  last  night?” 

George  turned  pale  and  tremblingly  re- 
plied, “No,  father.  Were  they  hurt.  Was 

Bess ” The  boy  seemed  moved  as  his 

father  had  not  yet  seen  him. 

“No ; they  were  not ; that  is,  Bess  was  not 
hurt  at  all.  But  Will  was  severely  bruised, 
and  Clara  still  lies  in  a state  of  stupor  or  un- 


1 68  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

consciousness  and  we  do  not  know  what  thd 
end  will  be.  I was  on  my  way  just  now  to 
get  some  needed  articles  from  the  doctor’s 
house.  You  must  come  back  with  me;  the 
law  has  no  hold  on  you.” 

“Maybe  the  law  hasn’t  any  hold  on  him, 
but  Michael  Finnerty  has.  I don’t  just  like 
the  idea,  mister  man,  of  letting  the  boy  go 
yet,”  replied  the  stubborn  and  unusually 
dutiful  officer. 

Mr.  Hardy  began  to  appeal  to  the  man’s 
love  of  his  own  children.  It  did  not  seem  to 
move  him  in  the  least,  until  ^he  mentioned 
the  fact  that  it  was  cruelty  to  keep  the  suffer- 
ing girl  at  home  waiting  for  her  father’s  re- 
turn. 

Mr.  Finnerty  finally  loosened  his  hold  on 
George  and  said  slowly  and  painfully:  “An’ 
if  I lose  me  job  I’ll  be  knbwin’  who  was  to 
blame  for  it.  I always  told  Michael  Fin- 
nerty that  he  was  too  soft-hearted  to  go  on 
the  force!” 

“You  won’t  suffer,  officer.  Many  thanks! 
Come,  George.” 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days,  169 

And  father  and  son  moved  off  together, 
while  the  defender  of  the  law  stood  irreso- 
lute, watching  them  disappear  through  the 
storm,  and  muttering  to  himself,  ‘‘Fm  a soft- 
hearted fool.  I ought  to  ’a’  been  born  a fe- 
male hospital  nurse,  I had.'’ 

During  that  walk  home,  after  Mr.  Hardy 
had  gone  around  by  the  doctor's  with 
George,  not  a word  was  exchanged.  The 
storm  was  increasing.  The  two  walked 
along  in  silence ; but  when  George  walked 
into  the  hall  at  home  he  turned  and  saw  a 
look  on  his  father's  face  that  smote  him  to 
the  heart,  for  he  was  not  yet  a hardened  soul. 
Mr.  Hardy  had  lived  years  in  that  experi- 
ence. No  one  could  tell  how  his  heart  had 
been  tortured  by  what  he  had  endured  that 
night ; but  the  mark  of  it  was  stamped  physi- 
cally on  his  face,  and  he  knew  that  he  would 
bear  it  to  his  grave. 

Mrs.  Hardy  came  running  downstairs  as 
the  two  came  in,  and  as  George  turned  and 
faced  her  she  held  out  her  arms,  crying : '‘My 


170  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

boy!  my  boy!  We  have  been  so  anxious 
about  you !"' 

What!  not  one  word  of  reproach,  of  re- 
buke, of  question  as  to  what  he  had  been 
doing  all  this  time  that  the  family  had  been 
suffering!  No;  not  one  word.  Ah,  mother 
love ! It  is  the  most  wonderful  thing  on 
earth,  next  to  the  love  of  God  for  the  sinner. 
It  is  even  that,  for  it  is  the  love  of  God  ex- 
pressing itself  through  the  mother,  who  is 
the  temple  of  the  loving  God. 

George  dashed  away  a tear,  and  then 
going  up  to  his  mother,  laid  his  cheek 
against  hers,  and  she  folded  her  arms  about 
him  and  cried  a little  and  asked  no  questions, 
and  after  a moment's  silence  he  stammered 
out  a few  words  of  sorrow  at  having  caused 
her  pain,  and  she  joyfully  accepted  his  broken 
explanation  of  how  he  had  not  known  of  the 
accident  to  Clara  and  the  others.  It  was 
true  he  had  gone  out  the  evening  before, 
fully  intending  to  go  down  to  the  scene  of 
the  accident ; but  coming  across  some  of  his 
old  companions  he  had  gone  off  with  them, 


Robert  Hardy s Seven  Days.  171 

apd  spent  the  night  in  a disgraceful  carouse. 
And  throughout  the  day  had  been  under  the 
influence  of  liquor,  more  or  less,  dimly  con- 
scious that  a great  disaster  had  happened 
down  the  road,  but  not  enough  sober  to  re- 
alize its  details  or  its  possible  connection 
with  those  of  his  own  home. 

The  sudden  meeting  with  his  father  had 
startled  him  out  of  the  drowsy  intoxication  he 
had  fallen  into  as  the  day  progressed.  Now, 
as  he  felt  his  mother’s  arms  around  him  and 
realized  a little  what  the  family  had  been 
called  upon  to  endure,  he  felt  the  shame  and 
disgrace  of  his  own  conduct. 

Mr.  Hardy  went  upstairs  and  consulted 
with  the  doctor,  who  wondered  at  his  pro- 
tracted absence.  There  was  no  change  in 
Clara  yet.  She  lay  in  a condition  which 
could  not  be  called  a trance  nor  a sleep.  She 
did  not  seem  to  be  in  any  great  pain ; but  she 
was  unconscious  of  all  outside  conditions. 

After  a little  talk  with  his  mother,  George 
came  up  and  inquired  after  Bess  and  Will. 
They  were  both  sleeping,  and  after  the  doc- 


172  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

tor  had  gone  out  the  father  and  mother  and 
son  sat  down  together  in  the  room  where 
Clara  lay. 

Mr.  Hardy  did  not  say  a word  to  George 
about  the  incident  of  the  evening.  The 
shame  of  it  was  too  great  yet.  When  men 
of  Mr.  Hardy’s  self-contained,  repressed, 
proud  nature  are  pained,  it  is  with  an  intense 
inward  fire  of  passion  that  cannot  bear  to 
break  out  into  words. 

George  had  sense  enough  to  offer  to  re- 
lieve his  parents  of  the  burden  of  watching 
during  the  night,  and  during  the  exchange  of 
watchers  along  toward  morning,  as  Mrs. 
Hardy  slipped  into  the  room  to  relieve  the 
boy,  she  found  him  kneeling  down  at  a couch 
with  his  face  buried  in  the  cushions.  She 
raised  her  face  in  thanksgiving  to  God  and 
went  softly  out. 

The  morning  dawned  gray  with  snow 
which  still  whirled  in  wreaths  about  the  sor- 
rowing homes  of  Barton ; but  Robert  Hardy 
thought  of  the  merciful  covering  it  would 
make  for  the  ghastly  piles  of  ruin  down  under 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  173 

the  bridge  and  along  the  banks  of  the  river. 
He  said  to  himself,  ''This  is  my  fourth  day ; 
how  can  I best  spend  it  ? What  shall  I do  T' 
He  kneeled  and  prayed,  and  rose  somewhat - 
refreshed. 

The  forenoon  went  rapidly  by,  and  before 
he  knew  it  noon  was  near.  The  time  had 
passed  in  watching  Clara,  visiting  with  Bess 
and  Will,  and  doing  some  necessary  work 
for  the  company  in  his  little  office  downstairs. 
He  did  not  feel  like  saying  anything  to 
George  yet.  James  Caxton  had  been  in,  and 
the  first  thing  he  had  mentioned  had  been  his 
own  act  in  the  meeting  the  night  before. 
Mr.  Hardy  thanked  God  for  it,  and  a prayer 
went  out  of  his  heart  for  his  own  son,  that 
the  Spirit  might  touch  him  in  his  ’sin  and 
bring  him  into  the  light  of  Christ. 

A little  after  noon  the  storm  cleared  up 
and  "Robert  prepared  to  go  down  to  the 
shops.  Clara  had  not  yet  come  out  of  her 
stupor.  The  doctor  had  called  and  done 
what  he  could.  There  was  nothing  in  par- 
ticular that  Mr.  Hardy  could  do  in  the  case. 


174  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days, 

so  he  went  out  about  one  o'clock  and  en- 
tered his  office  at  the  shop,  hoping*  as  he 
went  in  that  he  would  have  no  trouble  with 
the  men. 

Mr.  Burns  reported  everything  quiet,  and 
the  manager,  with  a sigh  of  relief,  proceeded 
with  the,  routine  duties  of  the  business. 
Nothing  of  any  special  interest  occurred 
through  the  afternoon.  The  storm  had 
ceased  entirely  and  the  sun  had  come  out 
clear  and  warm.  People  were  clearing  of? 
the  walks,  and  the  ringing  of  sleigh  bells  was 
distinct  in  the  office,  even  over  the  incessant 
hum  of  the  big  engine. 

Toward  three  o'clock  one  of  Mr.  Hardy's 
old  friends,  an  officer  of  the  road,  came  in 
and  said  there  was  a general  movement  on 
foot  through  Barton  to  hold  a monster  mass- 
meeting in  the  Town  Hall  for  the  benefit  of 
the  sufferers,  both  in  the  railroad  accident 
and  in  the  explosion  of  the  Sunday  before 
in  the  shops.  It  was  true  the  company 
would  settle  for  damages,  but  in  many  cases 
through  Barton  the  adjustment  of  claims 


Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days.  175 

would  not  be  made  until  much  suffering  and 
hardship  had  been  endured.  There  was  a 
common  feeling  on  the  part  of  the  towns- 
people that  a meeting  for  public  conference 
would  result  in  much  good,  and  there  was, 
also,  as  has  been  the  case  in  other  large  hor- 
rors, a craving  to  relieve  the  strain  of  feeling 
by  public  gathering  and  consultation. 

'‘Can  you  come  out  to  the  meeting, 
Hardy?’’  asked  his  friend. 

Ml  . Hard}^  thought  a minute  and  replied, 
"Yes;  I think  I can.”  Already  an  idea  had 
taken  shape  in  his  mind  which  he  could  not 
help  feeling  was  inspired  by  God% 

"Might  be  a good  thing  if  you  could  come 
prepared  to  make  some  remarks.  I find 
there  is  a disposition  on  the  part  of  the  pub- 
lic to  charge  the  road  with  carelessness  and 
mismanagement.”* 

"I’ll  say  a word  or  two,”  replied  Mr. 
Hardy;  and  after  a brief  talk  on  business 
matters  his  friend  went  out. 

Robert  immediately  sat  down  to  his  desk 
and  for  an  hour,  interrupted  only  by  an  oc- 


176  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

casional  item  of  business  brought  to  him  by 
his  secretary,  he  jotted  down  copious  notes. 
The  thought  which  had  come  to  him  when 
his  friend  suggested  the  meeting  was  this : 
he  would  go  and  utter  a message  that  burned 
within  him,  a message  which  the  events  of 
the  past  few  days  made  imperative  should  be 
uttered.  He  went  home  absorbed  in  the 
great  idea.  He  had  once  in  his  younger 
days  been  famous  for  his  skill  in  debate;  he 
had  no  fear  of  his  power  to  deliver  a message 
of  life  at  the  present  crisis  in  his  own.  He  at 
once  spoke  of  the  meeting  to  his  wife. 

‘‘Mary,  what  do  you  say?  I know  every 
minute  is  precious.  I owe  to  you  and  these 
dear  ones  at  home  a very  sacred  duty;  but 
no  less,  it  seems  to  me,  is  my  duty  to  the  so- 
ciety where  I have  lived  all  these  years,  doing 
literally  nothing  for  its  uplift  toward  God, 
who  gave  us  all  life  and  power.  I feel  as  if 
He  would  put  a message  into  my  mouth  that 
would  prove  a blessing  to  this  community. 
It  seems  to  me  this  special  opportunity  is 
providential/’ 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  177 

'^Robert/'  replied  his  wife,  smiling  at  him 
through  happy  tears,  ‘'it  is  the  will  of  God. 
Do  your  duty  as  He  makes  it  clear  to  you/^ 

It  had  been  an  agitating  week  to  the  wife. 
She  anticipated  its  close  with  a feeling  akin 
to  terror.  What  would  the  end  be?  She 
was  compelled  to  say  to  herself  that  her  hus- 
band was  not  insane ; but  the  thought  that 
he  was  really  to  be  called  out  of  the  world  in 
some  mysterious  manner  at  the  end  of  the 
rapidly  approaching  Sunday  had  several 
times  come  over  her  with  a power  that 
threatened  her  own  reason.  Nevertheless, 
the  week,  so  far,  in  spite  of  its  terror  and  agi- 
tation, had  a sweet  joy  for  her.  Her  hus- 
band had  come  back  to  her,  the  lover  as  he 
once  had  been,  only  with  the  added  tender- 
ness of  all  the  years  of  their  companionship. 
She  thanked  the  Father  for  it,  and  when  the 
hour  came  for  Robert  to  go  down  to  the 
meeting  she  blessed  him  and  prayed  heaven 
to  make  his  words  to  the  people  like  the 
words  of  God. 

“Father,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do? 


178  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

Shall  I stay  here?''  asked  George,  who  had 
not  stirred  out  of  the  house  all  day.  He  had 
watched  by  Clara  faithfully.  She  was  still  in 
that  mysterious  condition  of  unconsciousness 
which  made  her  case  so  puzzling  to  the  doc- 
tor. 

Mr.  Hardy  hesitated  a moment,  then  said ; 
^‘No,  George;  I would  like  to  have  you  go 
with  me.  Alice  can  do  all  that  is  necessary. 
But  let  us  all  pray  together  now  before  we 
go  out.  The  Lord  is  leading  us  mysteri- 
ously, but  we  shall  some  time  know  the  rea- 
son why." 

So,  in  the  room  where  Clara  lay,  they  all 
kneeled  down,  except  Will,  who  lay  upon  a 
lounge  near  his  unconscious  sister.  Mr. 
Hardy,  as  he  clasped  his  wife's  hand  in  his 
own,  poured  out  his  soul  in  this  petition : 

‘'Dear  Lord,  we  know  Thou  dost  love  us, 
even  though  we  cannot  always  know  why 
Thou  dost  allow  suffering  and  trouble;  and 
we  would  thank  Thee  for  the  things  that  can- 
not be  destroyed,  for  the  loves  that  cannot 
suffer  death,  for  the  wonderful  promises  of 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  179 

the  life  to  come.  Only  we  have  been  so  care- 
less of  the  things  that  belong  to  Thy  king- 
dom! We  have  been  so  selfish  and  forget- 
ful of  the  great  needs  and  sufferings  and  sins 
of  earth.  Pardon  us,  gracious  Redeemer! 
Pardon  me,  for  I am  the  chief  offender.  Yea, 
Lord,  even  as  the  robber  on  the  cross  was 
welcomed  into  Paradise,  welcome  Thou  me. 
But  we  pray  for  our  dear  ones.  May  they 
recover!  Make  this  beloved  one  who  now 
lies  unknowing  among  us  to  come  back  into 
the  universe  of  sense  and  sound,  to  know  us 
and  smile  upon  us  again.  We  say,  'Thy  will 
be  done/  Grand  wisdom,  for  Thou  knowest 
best;  only  our  hearts  will  cry  out  for  help 
and  Thou  knowest  our  hearts  better  than  any 
one  else.  Bless  me  this  night  as  I stand  be- 
fore the  people.  This  is  no  selfish  prayer, 
dear  Lord.  I desire  only  Thy  glory ; I pray 
only  for  Thy  kingdom.  But  Thou  hast  ap- 
pointed my  days  to  live.  Thou  hast  sent  me 
the  message  and  I cannot  help  feeling  the 
solemn  burden  and  joy  of  it.  I will  say  to 
the  people  that  Thou  art  most  important  of 


i8o  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

all  in  this  habitation  of  the  fleshc  And  now 
bless  us  all.  Give  us  new  hearts.  Make  us 
to  feel  the  true  meaning  of  existence  here. 
Reveal  to  us  Thy  splendor.  Forgive  all  the 
past  and  make  impossible  in  the  children  the 
mistakes  of  the  parent.  Deliver  us  from 
evil,  and  Thine  shall  be  the  Kingdom  forever. 
Amen.’’ 

When  Mr.  Hardy  and  George  reached  the 
Town  Hall  they  found  a large  crowd  gather- 
ing; they  had  some  difficulty  in  gaining  en- 
trance. Mr.  Hardy  at  once  passed  up  to  the 
platform,  where  the  chairman  of  the  meeting 
greeted  him  and  said  he  would  expect  him  to 
make  some  remarks  during  the  evening. 
Robert  sat  down  at  one  end  of  the  platform 
and  watched  the  hall  fill  with  people,  nearly 
all  well  known  to  him.  There  was  an  un- 
usually large  crowd  of  boys  and  young  men. 
Beside  a large  gathering  of  his  own  men 
from  the  shops,  together  with  a great  num- 
ber of  citizens  and  business  men — a repre- 
sentative audience  for  the  place;  brought  to- 
gether under  the  influence  of  the  disaster  and 


Robert  HardyPs  Seven  Days.  i8r 

feeling  somewhat  the  breaking  down  of  arti- 
ficial social  distinctions  in  the  presence  of  the 
grim  leveler  Death,  who  had  come  so  near  to 
them  the  last  few  days. 

There  were  the  usual  opening  exercises 
common  to  such  public  gatherings.  Sev- 
eral well-known  business  men  and  two  or 
three  of  the  ministers,  including  Mr.  Jones, 
made  appropriate  addresses.  The  attention 
of  the  great  audience  was  not  labored  for, 
the  occasion  itself  being  enough  to  throw 
over  the  people  the  spell  of  subdued  quiet. 
When  the  chairman  announced  that  ‘'Mr. 
Robert  Hardy,  our  well-known  railroad 
manager,  will  now  address  us,'’  there  was  a 
movement  of  curiosity  and  some  surprise, 
and  many  a man  leaned  forward  and  won- 
dered in  -his  heart  what  the  wealthy  railroad 
man  would  have  to  say  on  such  an  occasion. 
He  had  never  appeared  as  a speaker  in  pub- 
lic, and  he  passed  generally  in  Barton  for  the 
cold,  selfish,  haughty  man  he  had  always 
been. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Mr.  Hardy  began  in  a low,  clear  tone : 
^'Men  and  women  of  Barton : To-night  I 
am  not  the  man  you  have  known  me  these 
twenty-five  years  I have  been  among  you.  I 
am,  by  the  grace  of  God,  a new  creature.  As 
I stand  here  I have  no  greater  desire  in  my 
heart  than  to  say  what  may  prove  to  be  a 
blessing  to  all  my  old  townspeople  and  to  my 
employes  and  to  these  strong  young  men  and 
boys.  Within  a few  short  days  God  has 
shown  me  the  selfishness  of  a human  being’s 
heart,  and  that  heart  was  my  own;  and  it  is 
with  feelings  none  of  you  can  ever  know  that 
I look  into  your  faces  and  say  these  words.” 
Robert  paused  a moment  as  if  gathering 
himself  up  for  the  effort  that  followed,  and 
the  audience,  startled  with  an  unexpected 
emotion  by  the  strange  beginning,  thrilled 
with  excitement,  as,  lifting  his  arm  and  rais- 


Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days.  183 

ing  his  voice,  the  once  cold  and  proud  man, 
his  face  and  form  glowing  with  the  trans- 
figuration of  a new  manhood  : 

''There  is  but  one  supreme  law  in  this 
world,  and  it  is  this : Love  God  and  your 
neighbor  with  heart,  mind,  soul,  strength. 
And  there  are  but  two  things  worth  living 
for:, the  glory  of  God,  and  the  salvation  of 
man.  To-night  I,  who  look  into  eternity 
in  a sense  which  I will  not  stop  to  explain, 
feel  the  bitterness  which  comes  from  the 
knowledge  that  I have  broken  that  law  and 
have  not  lived  for  those  things  which  alone 
are  worth  living  for.  But  God  has  sent  me 
here  to-night  with  a message  to  the  people 
which  my  heart  must  deliver.  It  is  a duty 
even  more  sacred  in  some  ways  than  what  I 
owe  to  my  own  kindred.  I am  aware  that 
the  hearts  of  the  people  are  shocked  into 
numbness  by  the  recent  horror.  I know  that 
more  than  one  bleeding  heart  is  in  this  house 
and  the  shadow  of  the  last  enemy  has  fallen 
over  many  thresholds  in  our  town.  What! 
did  I not  enter  into  the  valley  of  the  shadow 


184  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

of  death  myself  as  I stumbled  over  the 
ghastly  ruins  of  that  wreck,  my  soul  torn  in 
twain  for  the  love  of  three  of  my  own  dear 
children?  Do  I not  sympathize  in  full  with 
all  those  who  bitterly  weep  and  lament  and 
sit  in  blackness  of  horror  this  night?  Yea: 
but,  men  of  Barton,  why  is  it  that  we  are  so 
moved,  so  stirred,  so  shocked  by  the  event  of 
death,  when  the  far  more  awful  event  of  life 
does  not  disturb  us  in  the  least?  We  shud- 
der with  terror,  we  lose  our  accustomed  pride 
or  indifference,  we  speak  in  whispers  and  we 
tread  softly  in  the  presence  of  the  visitor  who 
smites  but  once  and  then  smites  the  body 
only ; but  in  the  awful  presence  of  the  living 
image  of  God  we  go  our  ways  careless,  in- 
different, cold,  passionless,  selfish. 

know  whereof  I speak,  for  I have 
walked  through  the  world  like  that  myself. 
And  yet,  death  cannot  be  compared  for  one 
moment  with  Jife  for  majesty,  for  solemnity, 
for  meaning,  for  power.  There  were  sev- 
enty-five persons  killed  in  the  accident.  But 
in  the  papers  this  morning  I read  in  the  col- 


Robert  HardyPs  Seven  Days.  185 

umn  next  to  that  in  which  the  accident  was 
paraded,  in  small  type  and  in  the  briefest  of 
paragraphs,  the  statement  that  a certain 
young  man  in  this  very  town  of  ours  had 
been  arrested  for  forging  his  father’s  name  on 
a check  and  was  a fugitive  from  the  law. 
And  every  day  in  this  town  and  in  every 
town  all  over  the  world  events  like  that,  and 
worse  than  that,  are  of  frequent  occurrence. 
Nay,  in  this  very  town  of  ours  more  than 
seventy-tTve  souls  are  at  this  very  moment 
going  down  into  a far  blacker  hell  of  destruc- 
tion than  the  one  down  there  under  that  fated 
bridge,  and  the  community  is  not  horrified 
over  it.  How  many  mass-meetings  have 
^een  held  in  this  town  within  the  last  twenty- 
five  years  over  the  losses  of  character,  the 
death  of  purity,  the  destruction  of 
honesty?  Yet  they  have  outnumbered  the 
victims  of  this  late  physical  disaster  a thou- 
sandfold. And  what  does  mere  death  do? 
It  releases  the  spirit  from  its  house  of  earth, 
but  aside  from  that,  death  does  nothing  to 
the  person.  But  what  does  life  do?  Life 


1 86  Robert  Hardyh  Seven  Days. 

does  everything.  It  prepares  for  heaven  or 
for  hell.  It  starts  impulses,  molds  character, 
fixes  character.  Death  has  no  kingdom 
without  end.  Death  is  only  the  last  enemy 
of  the  many  enemies  that  life  knows.  Death 
is  a second ; life  is  an  eternity.  O men, 
brothers,  if,  as  I solemnly  and  truly  believe, 
this  is  the  last  opportunity  I shall  have  to 
speak  to  you  in  such  large  numbers,  I desire 
you  to  remember,  when  I have  vanished  from 
your  sight,  that  I spent  nearly  my  last  breath 
in  an  appeal  to  you  to  make  the  most  of 
daily  life,  to  glorify  God  and  save  men ! 

''The  greatest  enemy  of  man  is  not  death ; 
it  is  selfishness.  He  sits  on  the  throne  of  the 
entire  world.  This  very  disaster  which  has 
filled  the  town  with  sorrow  was  due  to  selfish- 
ness. Let  us  see  if  that  is  not  so.  It  has 
been  proved  by  investigation  already  made 
that  the  drunkenness  of  a track  inspector  was 
the  cause  of  the  accident.  What  was  the 
cause  of  that  drunkenness?  The  drinking 
habits  of  that  inspector.  How  did  he  acquire 
them?  In  a saloon  which  we  taxpayers  al- 


Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days.  187 

low  to  run  on  payment  of  a certain  sum  of 
money  into  our  town  treasury.  So,  then,  it 
was  the  greed  or  selfishness  of  the  men  of 
this  town  which  lies  at  the  bottom  of  this 
dreadful  disaster.  Who  was  to  blame  for  the 
disaster?  The  track  inspector?  No.  The 
saloon-keeper  who  sold  him  the  liquor?  No, 
Who  then?  We  ourselves,  my  brothers;  we 
who  licensed  the  selling  of  the  stuff  which 
turned  a man's  brain  into  liquid  fire  and 
smote  his  judgment  and  reason  with  a brand 
from  out  the  burning  pit.  If  I had  stumbled 
upon  the  three  corpses  of  my  own  children 
night  before  last,  I could  have  exclaimed  in 
justice  before  the  face  of  God,  T have  mur- 
dered my  own  children,'  for  I was  one  of  the 
men  of  Barton  to  vote  for  the  license  which 
made  possible  the  drunkenness  of  the  man  in 
whose  care  were  placed  hundreds  of  lives. 

“For  what  is  the  history  of  this  case? 
Who  was  this  wretched  track  inspector?  A 
man  who,  to  my  own  knowledge,  trembled 
before  temptation ; who,  on  the  testimony  of 
the  foreman  at  the  shops,  was,  and  always 


1 88  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

had  been,  a sober  man  up  to  the  time  when 
we,  as  a municipality  voted  to  replace  the 
system  of  no  license  with  the  saloon,  for  the 
sake  of  what  we  thought  was  a necessary 
revenue.  This  man  had  no  great  temptation 
to  drink  while  the  saloon  was  out  of  the  way. 
Its  very  absence  was  his  salvation.  But  its 
public  open  return  confronted  his  appetite 
once  more,  and  he  yielded  and  fell.  Who 
says  he  was  to  blame?  Who  are  the  real 
criminals  in  the  case?  We  ourselves,  citi- 
zens, we  who,  for  the  greed  of  gain,  for  the 
saving  of  that  which  has  destroyed  more 
souls  in  hell  than  any  other  one  thing,  made 
possible  the  causes  which  led  to  the  grief  and 
trouble  of  this  hour.  Would  we  not  shrink 
in  terror  from  the  thought  of  lying  in  wait 
to  kill  a man?  Would  we  not  repel  with 
holy  horror  the  idea  of  murdering  and  maim- 
ing seventy-five  people  ? We  would  say  im- 
possible!’ Yet,  when  I am  ushered  at  last 
into  the  majestic  presence  of  Almighty  God, 
I feel  convinced  I shall  see  in  his  righteous 
countenance  the  sentence  of  our  condemna- 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days,  189 

tion  just  as  certainly  as  if  we  had  gone  out 
in  a body  and  by  wicked  craft  had  torn  out 
the  supporting  timbers  of  that  bridge  just 
before  the  train  thundered  upon  it.  For  did 
we  not  sanction  by  law  a business  which  we 
know  tempts  men  to  break  all  the  laws; 
which  fills  our  jails  and  poorhouses,  our  re- 
formatories and  asylums ; which  breaks 
women’s  hearts  and  beggars  blessed  homes 
and  sends  innocent  children  to  thread  the 
paths  of  shame  and  vagrancy;  which  brings 
pallor  into  the  face  of  the  wife  and  tosses 
with  the  devil’s  own  glee  a thousand  victims 
into  perdition  with  every  revolution  of  this 
great  planet  about  its  greater  sun  ? 

‘‘Men  of  Barton,  say  what  we  will,  we  are 
the  authors  of  this  dreadful  disaster.  And  if 
we  sorrow  as  a community,  we  sorrow  in  re- 
ality for  our  own  selfish  act.  And  oh,  the 
selfishness  of  it!  That  clamoring  greed  for 
money ! That  burning  thirst  for  more,  and 
more,  and  more,  at  the  expense  of  every 
godlike  quality,  at  the  ruin  of  all  that  our 
mothers  once  prayed  might  belong  to  us  as 


190  Robert  Hardys  Seven  DaySo 

men  and  women ! What  is  it,  ye  merchants, 
ye  business  men,  here  to-night,  that  ye  strug- 
gle most  over?  The  one  great  aim  of  your 
lives  is  to  buy  for  as  little  as  possible  and 
sell  for  as  much  as  possible.  What  care  have 
ye  for  the  poor  who  work  at  worse  than  star-, 
vation  wages,  so  long  as  ye  can  bu*y  cheap 
and  sell  at  large  profits?  What  is  the  high- 
est aim  of  us  railroad  men  in  the  great  whirl 
of  commercial  competition  which  seethes  and 
boils  and  surges  about  this  earth  like  another 
atmosphere,  plainly  visible  to  the  devils  of 
other  worlds?  What  is  our  aim  but  to  make 
money  our  god  and  power  our  throne  ? How 
much  care  or  love  is  there  for  flesh  and 
blood  at  times  when  there  is  danger  of  losing 
almighty  dollars?  But,  oh.  Almighty  Sav- 
iour ! it  was  not  for  this  that  we  were  made ! 
We  know  it  was  not. 

^‘To  whom  am  I speaking?  To  myself. 
God  forbid  that  I should  stand  here  to  con- 
demn you,  being  myself  the  chief  of  sinners 
for  these  twenty-five  years.  What  have  I 
done  to  bless  this  community?  How  much 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  19 1 

have  I cared  for  the  men  in  my  employ? 
What  difference  did  it  make  to  me  that  my 
example  drove  men  away  from  the  Church 
of  Christ,  and  caused  anguish  to  those  few 
souls  who  were  trying  to  redeem  humanity? 
Tp  my  just  shame  I make  answer  that  no  one 
thing  has  driven  the  engine  of  my  existence 
over  the  track  of  its  destiny  except  self.  And 
oh,  for  that  Church  of  Christ  that  I professed 
to  believe  in!  How  much  have  I done  for 
that  ? How  much,  O fellow  members  (and  I 
see  many  of  you  here  to-night),  how  much 
have  we  done  in  the  best  cause  ever  known 
and  the  greatest  organization  ever  founded? 
We  go  to  church  after  reading  the  Sunday 
morning  paper,  saturated  through  and 
through  with  the  same  things  we  have  had 
poured  into  us  every  day  of  the  week,  as  if 
we  begru(!ged  the  whole  of  one  day  out  of 
seven.  We  criticise  prayer  and  hymn  and 
sermon,  drop  into  the  contribution  box  half 
the  amount  we  paid  during  the  week  for  a 
theatre  or  concert  ticket,  and  then  when  any- 
thing goes  wrong  in  the  community,  or  our 


192  Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days, 

children  fall  into  vice,  scorning  the  church  for 
weakness  and  the  preacher  for  lack  of  ability. 
Shame  on  us,  men  of  Barton,  members  of 
the  Church  of  Christ,  that  we  have  so  neg- 
lected our  own  church  prayer  meeting,  that 
out  of  a resident  membership  of  more  than 
four  hundred,  living  in  easy  distance  of  the 
church,  only  sixty  have  attended  regularly 
and  over  two  hundred  have  been  to  that  ser- 
vice only  occasionally.  Yet  we  call  ourselves 
disciples  of  Christ!  We  say  we  believe  in 
His  blessed  teachings ; we  say  we  believe  in 
prayer,  and  in  the  face  of  all  these  profes- 
. sions  we  turn  our  backs  with  indifference  on 
the  very  means  of  spiritual  growth  and  power 
which  the  Church  places  within  our  reach. 
If  Christ  were  to  come  to  the  earth  to-day, 
He  would  say  unto  us : 'Woe  unto  you, 
church  members,  hypocrites!"  He  would 
say  ^ unto  us : 'Woe  unto  you,  young 

disciples  in  name,  who  have  promised  to 
love  and  serve  me,  and  then,  ashamed  of 
testifying  before  men,  have  broken  promise 
and  prayer,  and  ridicule  those  who  have  kept 


Robert  Hardy* s Seven  Days.  193 

their  vows  sacredly!’  He  would  say  to  us 
men  who  have  made  money  and  kept  it  to 
ourselves : ^Woe  unto  you,  ye  rich  men,  who 
dress  softly  and  dine  luxuriously  and  live  in 
palaces,  while  the  poor  cry  aloud  for  judg- 
ment and  the  laborer  sweats  for  the  luxury 
of  the  idle ! Woe  unto  you  who  speculate  in 
flesh  and  blood,  and  call  no  man  brother  un- 
less he  lives  in  as  fine  a house  and  has  as 
much  money  in  the  bank!  Therefore,  ye 
shall  receive  the  greater  condemnation !’ 

Self ! god  of  the  earth  yet ! With  two 
thousand  years  of  the  Son  of  God  written  into 
its  history,  still  goes  up  the  cry  of  those  who 
perish  with  hunger,  who  break  into  the  sanc- 
tuary of  their  souls,  because  they  cannot  get 
work  to  do  and  are  weary  of  the  struggle  of 
existence.  Self!  thou  art  king;  not  Jesus 
Christ!  But,  oh,  for  the  shame  of  it!  the 
shame  of  it ! Were  it  not  for  the  belief  in  the 
mighty  forgiveness  of  sins,  I would  stands 
here  to-night  with  no  hope  of  ever  seeing 
the  paradise  of  God.  But,  resting  in  that 
hope,  I wish  to  say  to  you  who  have  beheld 


194  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

the  example  of  my  selfish  life,  I repudiate  it 
all.  In  the  world  I have  passed  as  a moral 
citizen  and  a good  business  man ; in  society 
there  has  been  no  objection  to  my  presence, 
on  account  of  my  wealth  and  position ; in  the 
church  I have  been  tolerated  because  I gave 
it  financial  support;  but  in  the  sight  of  that 
perfect  Crucified  Lamb  of  God,  I have  bro- 
ken the  two  greatest  laws  which  he  ever  an- 
nounced. I have  been  a sinner  of  the  deep- 
est dye ; I have  been  everything  except  a dis- 
ciple of  Jesus  Christ.  I have  prayed  for 
mercy.  I believe  my  prayer  has  been  an- 
swered. 

‘‘I  am  conscious  that  some  here  present 
may  think  that  what  I have  said  has  been  in 
poor  taste ; that  it  has  been  an  affront  to  the 
object  of  the  meeting  or  an  insult  to  the  feel- 
ings of  those  who  have  called  the  audience 
together.  In  order  that  the  people  may 
know  that  I am  sincere  in  all  I have  said,  I 
will  say  that  I have  placed  in  the  bank  the 
sum  of  $10,000  to  be  used  as  the  committee 
may  deem  wisest  and  best  in  the  education  of 


Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days.  195 

children  in  bereaved  homes,  or  in  any  way 
that  shall  be  for  the  best  good  of  those  in 
need.  This  money  is  God's.  I have  robbed 
Him  and  my  brother  man  all  these  years. 
Whatever  restitution  I can  make  in  the  next 
few  days  I desire  to  m.ake. 

'‘But  the  great  question  with  us  all,  my 
friends,  is  not  this  particular  disaster.  That 
will  in  time  take  its  place  as  one  event  out  of 
thousands  in  the  daily  life  of  this  world.  The 
great  event  of  existence  is  not  death,  it  is 
life.  And  the  great  question  of  the  world  is 
not  the  tariff  nor  the  silver  question  nor  the 
labor  question  nor  temperance  nor  this  nor 
that  nor  the  other.  The  great  question  of 
the  whole  world  is  selfishness  in  the  heart  of 
man.  The  great  command  is,  'Seek  ye  first 
the  kingdom  of  God.'  If  we  had  done  that 
in  this  town,  I believe  such  a physical  disas- 
ter as  the  one  we  lament  would  never  have 
happened.  That  is  our  great  need. 

"If  we  go  home  from  this  meeting  re- 
solved to  rebuke  our  selfishness  in  whatever 
form  it  is  displeasing  to  God,  and  if  we  begin 


196  Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days. 

to-morrow  to  act  out  that  resolution  in  word 
and  deed,  we  shall  revolutionize  this  town  in 
its  business,  its  politics,  its  church,  its 
schools,  its  homes.  If  we  , simply  allow  our 
emotions  to  be  stirred,  our  sympathies  to  be 
excited  to  the  giving  of  a little  money  on  this 
occasion,  it  will  do  us  and  the  community 
little  permanent  good.  God  wants  a com- 
plete transformation  in  the  people  of  this  na- 
tion. Nothing  less  than  a complete  regene- 
ration can  save  us  from  destruction.  Un- 
consecrated, selfish  money  and  selfish  educa- 
tion, selfish  political  power  and  selfish  genius 
in  art,  letters  and  diplomacy  will  sink  us  as  a 
people  into  a gulf  of  annihilation.  There^ 
no  salvation  for  us  except  in  Jesus  Christ. 
Let  us  believe  in  Him  and  live  in  Him. 

have  said  my  message.  I trust  you 
have  understood  it.  I would  not  say  other- 
wise if  I knev/  that  I should  step  off  this  plat- 
form now  and  stand  before  the  judgment 
seat  of  Christ.  God  help  us  all  to  do  our 
duty ! Time  is  short,  eternity  is  long.  Death 
is  nothing:  life  is  everything.’’ 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  197 

Five  years  after  this  speech  of  Robert 
Hardy  to  the  people  of  Barton  in  the  Town 
Hall,  one  who  was  present  in  the  audience 
described  the  sensation  that  passed  through 
it  when  the  speaker  sat  down,  to  be  like  a 
distinct  electric  shock  which  passed  from  seat 
to  seat,  and  held  the  people  fixed  and  breath- 
less as  if  they  had  been  smitten  into  images 
of  stone.  The  effect  on  the  chairman  of  the 
meeting  was  the  same.  He  sat  motionless. 
Then  a wave  of  emotion  gradually  stirred  the 
audience,  and  without  a word  of  dismission 
they  poured  out  of  the  building  and  scattered 
to  their  homes. 

Robert  found  George  waiting  for  him. 
The  father  was  almost  faint  with  the  reaction 
from  his  address.  George  gave  his  arm  and 
the  two  walked  home  in  silence. 

We  must  pass  over  hastily  the  events  of 
the  next  day  in  Robert  Hardy's  life.  The 
whole  town  was  talking  about  his  surprising 
address  of  the  night  before.  Some  thought 
he  was  crazy.  Others  regarded  him  as  sin- 
cere, but  after  the  first  effect  of  his  speech 


198  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

had  worn  off,  they  criticised  him  severely  for 
presuming  to  ''preach’'  on  such  an  occasion. 
Still  others  were  puzzled  to  account  for  the 
change  in  the  man,  for  that  a change  had 
taken  place  could  not  be  denied.  How  slow 
men  are  to  acknowledge  the  power  of  God  in 
the  human  heart ! Mr.  Hardy  went  about 
his  business,  very  little  moved  by  all  this  dis- 
cussion. He  realized  that  only  two  more 
days  remained. 

He  spent  the  afternoon  and  evening  at 
home,  but  was  interrupted  by  several  calls. 
After  tea  the  entire  family  gathered  in  the 
room  where  Clara  lay.  She  still  remained 
unconscious,  but  living.  As  Mrs.  Hardy  was 
saying  -something  to  her  husband  about  his 
dream  and  the  events  of  the  day  before,  Clara 
suddenly  opened  her  eyes  and  distinctly 
called  out  the  words : 

"Father!  what  day  is  it?”  • 

It  was  like  a voice  out  of  the  long-dead 
past,  Mr.  Hardy,  sitting  by  the  side  of  the 
bed,  replied  quietly,  while  his  heart  beat 
quickly : 


Robert  Hardy s Seven  Days.  199 

‘'This  is  Friday  night,  dear  child/' 

Another  question  came,  uttered  in  the 
same  strange  voice : 

“Father,  how  many  more  days  are  left  for 
you  V 

“To-morrow  and  Sunday." 

The  voice  came  again  : 

“I  shall  go  with  you  then." 

The  eyes  closed  and  the  form  became  mo- 
tionless as  before. 

It  was  very  quiet  in  the  room  at  the  close 
of  Robert  Hardy's  fifth  day. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Those  words  of  Clara,  'T  shall  go  with  you 
then,''  filled  the  family  with  dismay.  Mr. 
Hardy  bowed  his  head  and  groaned.  MrSc 
Hardy,  almost  beside  herself  with  grief  and 
terror,  flew  to  the  side  of  the  girl,  and,  with 
beseeching  cries  and  caresses,  tried  to  bring 
back  to  consciousness  the  mind  that  for  a 
moment  or  two  had  gleamed  with  reason  and 
then  had  gone  back  into  the  obscurity  and 
oblivion  of  that  mysterious  condition  in 
which  it  had  been  lying  for  three  days ; but 
all  in  vain.  The  eyes  were  closed ; the  form" 
was  rigid.  The  others,  George  and  Will  and 
Bess,  grew  pale,  and  Bess  cried,  almost  for 
the  first  time  since  the  strange  week  began. 
Robert  was  the  first  to  break  the  grief  with  a 
quiet  word.  He  raised  his  head,  saying : 

'T  do  not  believe  Clara  is  going  to  die 
when  I do." 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days,  201 

‘‘Why,  father,  what  makes  you  think  that?'' 
cried  Alice. 

“I  don’t  know ; I can’t  give  any  exact  rea- 
son. I only  know  that  I don’t  believe  it  will 
happen." 

“God  grant  that  she  may  be  spared  to  us !" 
said  Mrs.  Hardy.  “Oh,  Robert,  it  is  more 
than  I can  bear ! Only  to-day  and  to-morrow 
left ! It  can't  be  real.  I have  battled  against 
your  dream  all  the  week.  It  was  a dream 
only ; I will  not  believe  it  to  be  anything  else. 
You  are  not  ill;  there  is  no  indication  that 
you  are  going  to  die.  I will  not,  I cannot, 
believe  it!  God  is  too'  good.  And  we  need 
you  now,  Robert.  Let  us  pray  God  for 
mercy." 

Robert  shook  his  head  sadly,  but  firmly. 

“No,  Mary ; I cannot  resist  an  impression 
so  strong  that  I cannot  call  it  anything  but  a 
conviction  of  reality ; that  somehow,  in  some 
way,  I shall*  be  called  away  from  you  Sunday 
night.  I have  struggled  against  it,  but  it 
grows  upon  me  even  more  firmly.  God  is 


202  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

merciful.  I do  not  question  His  goodness. 
How  much  did  I deserve  even  this  week  of 
preparation  after  the  life  I have  lived  ? And 
the  time  will  not  be  long  before  we  shall  all 
meet  there.  God  grant  that  it  may  be  an  un- 
broken company 

Mr.  Hardy  spoke  as  any  one  in  his  condi- 
tion could.  The  children  drew  about  him 
lovingly.  Bess  climbed  into  his  lap ; she  laid 
her  face  against  her  father’s  face,  and  the 
strong  man  sobbed  as  he  thought  of  all  the 
years  of  neglected  affection  in  that  family 
circle,  'fhe  'rest  of  the  evening  was  spent 
in  talking  over  the  probable  future. 

George,  who  seemed  thoroughly  humbled 
now,  listened  respectfully  and  even  tearfully 
to  his  father’s  counsel  concerning  the  direc- 
tion of  business  and  family  matters.  The 
boy  was  going  through  a struggle  with  him- 
self which  was  apparent  to  all  in  the  house. 
Ever  since  his  mother  had  seen  him  kneel- 
ing down  in  the  night-watch,  he  had.  shown 
a different  spirit.  It  remained  to  be  seen 
whether  he  had  really  changed,  or  whether 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  203 

he  had  been,  for  the  time  being,  frightened 
into  a little  goodness. 

Saturday  morning  found  the  Hardys  weary 
with  the  agitation  of  the  week,  but  bearing 
about  a strange  excitement  which  only  the 
prospect  of  the  father’s  approaching  death  or 
removal  could  have  produced. 

Robert  could  not  realize  that  his  week 
was  almost  at  an  end.  Why,  it  seemed  but 
yesterday  that  he  had  dreamed  after  the  Sun- 
day evening  service ! As  on  every  other 
day,  he  asked  himself  the  question : ^ ‘What 
shall  I do  Only  until  he  had  prayed  could 
he  answer  the  question.  Then  the  light 
came.  Who  says  prayer  is  merely  a form? 
It  is  going  to  God  for  wisdom  and  getting  it. 
It  is  crying  out  for  light,  and  lo ! the  darkness 
flees.  It  is  spreading  out  our  troubles  and 
our  joys  and  our  perplexities  and  our  needs, 
and  finding  God  Himself  the  best  possible 
answer  to  them  all.  Robert  Hardy  was  find- 
ing this  out  lately,  and  it  was  the  one  thing 
that  made  possible  to  him  the  calmness  of  the 
last  two  days  allotted  him. 


204  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

The  day  was  spent  in  much  the  same  way 
that  the  other  days  had  been  spent.  He 
went  down  to  his  office  about  ten  o'clock, 
and  after  coming  home  to  lunch,  wenl  down 
again,  with  the  intention  of  getting  through 
all  the  business  and  returning  home  . to  spend 
the  rest  of  the  time  with  the  family.  Along 
toward  three  o’clock,  when  the  routine  work 
of  the  shops  was  disposed  of,  the  manager 
felt  an  irresistible  desire  to  speak  to  the  men 
in  his  employ.  They  numbered  about  eight 
hundred  in  his  department,  and  he  knew  how 
impossible  it  would  be  for  him  to  speak  to 
them  individually.  He  thought  a minute 
and  then  called  Burns  in  and  gave  an  order 
that  made  the  foreman  stare  in  the  most  un- 
disguised wonder. 

“Shut  down  the  works  for  a little  while  and 
ask  the  men  to  get  together  in  the  big  ma- 
chine shop.  I want  to  speak  to  them.” 

Burns  had  been  astonished  so  often  this 
week  that,  although  he  opened  his  mouth  to 
say  something,  he  did  not  seem  able  to  pro- 
nounce the  word,  and  after  staring  blankly  at 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  205 

his  employer  a minute,  he  turned  and  went 
out  to  execute  the  order. 

The  great  engine  was  stopped.  The  men 
from  the  casting-rooms  and  the  carpenter- 
shops  and  the  store-rooms  and  the  repairing 
departments  came  trooping  into  the  big  ma- 
chine shop  and  sat  or  leaned  on  the  great 
grim  pieces  of  machinery,  and  as  the  shop 
filled,  the  place  began  to  take  on  a strange 
aspect  never  seen  there  before. 

Mr.  Hardy  crossed  the  yard  from  the  of- 
fice, followed  by  the  clerks  and  assistant  of- 
ficers of  the  road,  all  curious  to  hear  what 
was  coming.  Mr.  Hardy  mounted  one  of  the 
planers  and  looked  about  him.  The  air  was 
still  full  of  gas  and  smoke,  and  that  mixture 
of  fine  iron  filings  and  oil  which  is  character- 
istic of  such  places.  The  men  were  quiet 
and  respectful  enough.  Many  of  them  had 
heard  the  manager’s  speech  of  Thursday 
night  at  the  Town  Hall.  Most  of  them  were 
aware  that  some  change  had  taken  place  in 
the  man.  It  had  been  whispered  about  that 
he  had  arranged  matters  for  the  men  injured 


2o6  Robert  Ilardy^s  Seven  Rays. 

in  the  Sunday  accident  so  that  they  would 
not  come  to  want  in  any  way. 

And  now  that  grimy,  hard-muscled,  hard- 
featured  crowd  of  eight  hundred  men  all 
turned  their  eyes  all  upon  the  figure  standing 
very  erect  and  pale-faced  on  the  great  planer, 
and  he  in  turn  looked  out  through  the  blue, 
murky  atmosphere  at  them  with  an  intensity 
of  expression  which  none  in  that  audience 
understood.  As  Mr.  Hardy  went  on  with 
his  speech,  they  began  to  understand  what 
that  look  meant. 

''My  brothers,’'  began  the  manager  with  a 
slight  trembling of  the  syllables  so  new  to 
him,  "as  this  may  be  the  last  time  I shall  ever 
speak  to  you,  I want  to  say  what  is  true  to 
me  and  what  I feel  I owe  to  you.  For 
tw^enty-five  years  I have  carried  on  the  work 
in  this  place  without  any  thought  • of  the 
eight  hundred  men  at  work  in  these  shops, 
except  as  their  names  were  on  the  pay  roll  of 
the  company.  It  never  made  any  difference 
to  me  when  your  wives  and  children  grev/ 
sick  and  died.  I never  knew  what  sort  of 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  207 

houses  you  lived  in,  except  to  know  that  in 
comparison  with  mine  they  must  have  been 
very  crowded  and  uncomfortable.  For  all 
these  twenty-five  years  I have  been  as  in- 
different to  you  as  one  man  possibly  could 
be  to  men  who  work  for  him.  It  has  not  oc- 
curred to  me  during  this  time  that  I could  be 
anything  else.  I have  been  too  selfish  to  see 
my  relation  to  you  and  act  upon  it. 

‘'Now,  I do  not  call  you  in  here  to-day  to 
apologize  for  twenty-five  years’  of  selfishness 
— not  that  alone ; but*  I do  want  you  to  know 
that  I have  been  touched  bv  the  hand  of 
God  in  such  a way  that  before  it  is  too  late  I 
want  to  say  to  you  all,  ‘brothers,’  and  say  to 
you  that  when  you  think  of  me  hereafter  it 
may  be  as  I am  now,  to-day,  not  as  I have 
been  in  all  the  years  past. 

“It  is  not  for  me  to  say  how  far  or  in  what 
manner  I have  trampled  on  the  brotherhood 
of  the  race.  I have  called  myself  a Christian. 
I have  been  a member  of  a church.  Yet  I 
will  confess  here  to-day  that  under  the  au- 
thority granted  me  by  the  company  I have 


2o8  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

more  than  once  dismissed  good,  honest,  faith- 
ful workmen  in  large  bodies,  and  cut  down 
wages  unnecessarily  to  increase  dividends, 
and  in  general  I have  thought  of  the  human 
flesh  and  blood  in  these  shops  as  I have 
thought  of  the  iron  and  steel  here.  I con- 
fess all  that  and  more.  Whatever  has  been 
unchristian  I hope  will  be  forgiven. 

‘^There  are  many  things  we  do  to  our  fel- 
low men  in  this  world  which  abide — the  sting 
of  them,  I mean.  Theimpress  of  my  selfish- 
ness is  stamped  on  this  place.  It  will  take 
years  to  remove  it.  I might  have  been  far 
more  to  you.  ,I  might  have  raised  my  voice, 
as  a Christian  and  an  influential  director  of 
this  road,  against  the  Sunday  work  and  traf- 
fic ; I never  did.  I might  have  relieved  un- 
necessary discomfort  in  different  depart- 
ments ; I refused  to  do  it.  I might  have 
helped  the  cause  of  temperance  in  this  town 
by  trying  to  banish  the  saloon ; instead  of 
that,  I voted- to  license  a crime  and  poverty 
and  disease  establishment.  I might  have 
used  my  influence  and  my  wealth  to  build 


Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days,  209 

healthy,  comfortable  homes  for  the  men  who 
work  on  this  road ; I never  raised  my  finger 
in  the  matter.  I might  have  helped  to  make 
life  a happier,  sweeter  thing  to  the  nearly  one 
thousand  souls  in  this  establishment,  and  I 
went  my  selfish  way,  content  with  my  own 
luxurious  home  and  the  ambition  for  self- 
culture and  the  pride  of  self-accomplish- 
ments. And  yet  there  is  not  a man  here  to- 
day who  isn’t  happier  than  I am. 

wish  you  all,  in  the  name  of  the  good 
God,  who  forgives  our  sins  for  Jesus’  sake, 
the  wish  of  a man  who  looks  into  the  other 
world  and  sees  things  as  they  really  are.  I 
do  not  wish  you  to  think  of  my  life  as  a Chris- 
tian life.  It  has  not  been  such;  but  as  you 
hope  to  be  forgiven  at  last,  forgive  all  wrongs 
at  my  hands. 

“You  are  living  in  the  dawn  of  a happier 
day  for  labor.  There  are  Christian  men  in 
business  in  this  town,  and  some  few  con- 
nected with  railroads,  who  are  trying  to  ap- 
ply the  principles  of  Christianity  to  the  busi- 
ness and  traffic  of  the  world.  My  probable 


210  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

successor  in  these  shops  is  such  a man  in 
spirit. 

''God  is  love.  I have  forgotten  that  my- 
self. I have  walked  through  life  forgetful  of 
Him.  But  I know  to-day  that  He  is  drawing 
the  nations  and  the  world  together  in  true 
sympathy.  The  nations  that  stand  defiant 
and  disobedient  to  God  shall  perish.  The 
rulers  who  haughtily  take  God’s  place  and 
oppress  the  people  shall  be  destroyed.  The 
men  of  power  and  intelligence  and  money 
who  use  these  three  great  advantages  merely 
to  bless  themselves  and  add  to  their  own 
selfish  pleasure  and  ease  shall  very  soon  be 
dethroned.  I would  give  all  I possess  to  be 
able  to  live  and  see  a part  of  it  come  to  pass. 
Men,  brothers,  some  of  you  younger  ones 
will  live  to  see  that  day. 

"Love  God  and  obey  Him.  Envy  not  the 
rich.  They  are  more  miserable  than  you 
sometimes  dream.  True  happiness  consists 
in  a conscience  at  peace  with  God  and  a heart 
free  from  selfish  desires  and  habits.  I thank 
you  for  your  attention.  You  will  know  bet- 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Rays.  211 

ter  why  I have  said  all  this  to  you  when  you 
come  in  here  to  work  again  next  Monday. 
My  brothers,  God  bless  you.  God  bless  us 
all 

When  Robert  stepped  down  from  the 
planer  and  started  toward  the  door,  more 
than  one  black  hand  was  thrust  into  his  with 
the  words,  ''God  bless  you,  sir!’'  He  felt  a 
strange  desire  to  weep.  Never  before  had  he 
felt  that  thrill  shoot  through  him  at  the  grasp 
of  the  hand  of  his  brother  man.  His  speech 
had  made  a profound  impression  on  the  men. 
Many  of  them  did  not  understand  the  mean- 
ing of  certain  sentences ; but  the  spirit  of  the 
man  was  unmistakable,  and  the  men  re- 
sponded in  a manner  that  touched  Mr.  Hardy 
very  strongly. 

He  finally  went  into  his  office ; the  big  en- 
gine started  up  again,  and  the  whir  and  dust 
and  clangor  of  the  shops  went  on.  But  men 
bent  over  their  work  there,  in  the  gathering 
dusk  of  the  winter  day,  who  felt  a new  heart- 
throb  at  the  recollection  of  the  pale  face  and 
sincere  word  of  the  man  who  had  broken  a 


212  Robert  Hard)ps  Seven  Days. 

selfish  silence  of  a quarter  of  a century  to  call 
them  brothers.  Oh,  Robert  Hardy,  what  glo- 
rious opportunities  you  missed  to  love  aud 
be  loved!  With  all  your  wealth  you  have 
been  a very  poor  man  all  your  life  until  now, 
on  the  next  to  the  last  day -of  it! 

There  is  little  need  to  describe  the  rest  of 
this  day.  Robert  went  home.  Every  one 
greeted  him  tenderly.  His  first  inquiry  was 
for  Clara.  Still  in  that  trance-like  sleep ; 
would  she  never  wake  ? The  wife  shud- 
dered with  fear.  Mrs.  Hardy  had  spent  much 
of  the  time  in  prayer  and  tears.  The  even- 
ing sped  by  without  special  incident. 

James  Caxton  came  and  joined  the  family 
circle.  His  presence  reminded  Mr.  Hardy  of 
the  old  quarrel  with  the  young  man's  father. 
He  spoke  to  James  and  said  if  anything 
should  prevent  him  seeing  his  father  the  next 
day,  James  might  tell  his  father  how  com- 
pletely and  sincerely  he  wished  the  foolish 
quarrel  forgotten  and  his  own  share  in  it  for- 
given. 

So  that  day  came  to  a close  in  family  con- 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  213 

ference,  in  tears,  in  fear  and  hope  and  anxiety 
and  prayer.  But  Mrs»JIardy  would  not  lose 
all  hope.  It  did  not  seem  to  her  possible 
that  her  husband  could  be  called  away  the 
next  night. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


Alice,  with  the  quickness  of  thought  that 
always  characterized  her,  planned  that  all  the 
rest  should  go  to  church,  while  she  remained 
with  Clara.  Will  was  able  to  go  out  now. 
So,  for  the  first  time  in  months,  Robert  and 
his  wife  and  Bess  and  the  two  boys  sat  to- 
gether in  the  same  seat.  George  had  not 
been  to  church  for  a year,  and  Will  was  very 
irregular  in  his  attendance. 

The  opening  services  seemed  especially 
impressive  and  beautiful  to  Mr.  Hardy.  He 
wondered  how  he  had  ever  dared  sit  and 
criticise  Mr.  Jones  and  the  way  he  had  of 
reading  the  hymns.  To  be  sure,  he  was  not 
a perfect  speaker ; but  his  love  for  his  people 
and  his  great  love  for  men,  and  his  rare  good 
life  every  day  were  so  well  known  that  they 
ought  to  have  counted  for  more  than  they 
ever  did.  It  is  astonishing  how  many  good 


Robert  Hardy s Seven  Days.  215 

deeds  and  good  men  pass  through  this  world 
unnoticed  and  unappreciated;  but  every  evil 
deed  is  caught  up  and  magnified  and  criti- 
cised by  press  and  people,  until  it  seems  as  if 
the  world  must  be  a very  wicked  place  in- 
deed, and  the  good  people  very  scarce  in- 
deed. 

Mr.  Hardy  joined  in  the  service  with  a joy 
unknown  to  him  for  years.  He  had  come  to 
it  from  the  reading  of  his  Bible,  instead  of 
the  reading  of  the  morning  paper,  and  from 
prayer,  instead  of  from  thoughts  of  his  busi' 
ness  or  a yawning  stroll  through  his  library. 
His  mind  was  receptive  of  the  best  things  in 
the  service.  He  entered  into  it  with  the 
solemn  feeling  that  it  was  his  last. 

And  when  the  minister  gave  out  the  text, 
''For  we  must  all  appear  before  the  judgment 
seat  of  Christ;  that  every  man  may  receive 
the  things  done  in  his  body,  whether  they  be 
good  or  bad,''  he  started,  and  leaned  forward 
intently,  feeling  that  the  message  of  the 
preacher  was  for  him  and  him  alone,  and 
strangely  appropriate  for  his  own  peculiar 


2i6  Robert  HardyPs  Seven  Days. 

condition.  The  first  statement  of  the  ser- 
mon arrested  his  attention  and  held  him  to 
the  argument  irresistibly  to  the  end. 

“The  judgment  seat  of  Christ  will  not  be  a 
dreadful  place  to  a man  whose  sins  have 
been  forgiven  in  this  world ; but  if  he  comes 
up  to  it  seamed  and  scarred  and  stained  with 
sins  unrepented  of  and  unforgiven  because  he 
has  not  asked  God  to  forgive  him,  it  will  be  a 
place  of  awful  fear  to  his  soul.  There  are 
men  here  in  this  audience  who  are  as  ready  to 
die  now  as  they  ever  will  be ; they  have  made 
their  peace  with  God ; they  have  no  quarrel 
with  their  neighbors;  their  accounts  are  all 
square  in  business ; they  are  living  in  loving 
relations  with  the  home  circle ; they  have  no 
great  burdens  of  remorse  or  regret  weighing 
them  down ; and  if  God  should  call  them  this 
minute  to  step  up  to  the  judgment  seat,  they 
would  be  ready. 

“But  there  are  other  men  here  who  are  not 
at  all  ready  for  such  a tremendous  event. 
They  may  think  they  are,  but  they  are  mis- 
taken. How  can  they  stand  before  the 


Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days.  217 

greatest  Being  in  all  the  universe  and  have 
no  fear,  \vhen  they  are  unprepared  to  answer 
His  questions  'Why  did  you  not  confess  me 
before  men?  Why  did  you  not  do  as  I 
commanded  and  bear  the  burdens  of  the 
weak,  instead  of  pleasing  yourself?'  What 
will  the  man  say  then? 

"It  is  true  that  Christ  is  all-merciful,  all- 
loving.  But  will  it  make  no  difference  with 
a soul  whether  it  comes  up  to  His  judgment 
seat  out  of  a life  of  selfish  ease  and  indul- 
gence, or  out  of  a life  of  self-sacrifice  and  re- 
straint ? When  every  possible  offer  of  mercy 
is  held  out  to  men  on  earth  and  tliey  will  not 
accept  it,  will  it  be  all  the  s?nie  as  if  they  had 
when  they  come  before  the  judgment  seat  of 
Christ?  Why  that  would  be  to  mock  at  the 
meaning  of  the  incarnation  and  the  atone- 
ment. It  would  be  to  cast  scorn  and  con- 
tempt on  the  agony  in  the  garden  and  the 
crucifixion.  It  would  make  unnecessary  all 
the  prayer  and  preaching.  What  possible 
need  is  there  that  men  preach  a gospel  of  sal- 
vation unless  there  is  danger  of  the  opposite  ? 


2i8  Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days, 

If  we  are  all  going  to  be  saved  anyway,  no 
matter  whether  we  accept  God’s  love  in 
Christ  or  not,  what  use  is  the  Church  ? And 
why  should  we  be  anxious  any  more  about 
our  children?  And  what  difference  does  it 
make  whether  they  go  to  the  bad  here  in  this 
world,  if  in  the  world  to  come  they  will  all  be 
saved  ? For  eternity  v/ill  be  so  much  grander 
and  sweeter  and  enduring  than  time  that  we 
might  as  well  take  it  easy  here  and  not  pay 
much  attention  to  the  message,  ‘God  so  loved 
the  world’ — that  is,  if  we  are  going  to  be 
saved  anyway, 

“Why  should  we  care  very  much  if  it  does 
say  in  the  revelation  of  God’s  Word  that  the 
wicked  shall  go  away  into  everlasting  punish- 
ment, if  we  don’t  believe  it?  Why,  the 
wicked  will  stand  just  as  good  a chance  of 
eternal  glory  as  the  good,  if  the  judgment 
seat  of  Christ  does  not  mean  a separation  of 
the  good  from  the  bad.  Let  us  close  our 
churches  and  go  home.  Let  us  eat  and  drink 
and  dance  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  we 
die;  and  after  death  the  judgment,  and  after 


Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days,  219 

the  judgment  glofy  and  joy  and  power  and 
peace  and  life  eternal  in  the  presence  of  God. 
It  is  true  we  scorned  Him  on  earth,  but  that 
won't  make  any  difference;  He  will  receive 
us  just  the  same.  It  is  true  we  refused  to  be- 
lieve in  His  only  begotton  Son  after  all  He 
suffered  of  shame  and  agony  for  us ; but  that 
makes  no  difference  : He  will  say : ^Enter  into 
the  joy  of  thy  Lord.'  It  is  true  we  made  fun 
of  Christians,  and  mocked  at  prayer  and 
sneered  at  faith;  but  that  is  not  much  to  be 
afraid  of.  It  is  true  we  hated  our  neighbor 
and  would  not  forgive  an  insult ; but  that  is  a 
little  thing.  It  is  true  when  the  Holy  Spirit 
pleaded  with  us  a year  or  six  months  ago  to 
confess  Christ  in  public  we  told  Him  to  leave 
us ; we  were  ashamed  to  do  it  in  the  presence 
of  men,  to  confess  Him  who  spread  out  His 
arms  on  a cross  of  bitterest  agony  for  us ; but 
for  all  that  we  feel  sure  that  when  we  march 
up  to  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ  He  will 
treat  us  just  the  same  as  He  treats  the  dis- 
ciples who  have  laid  down  their  lives  for  the 
Master. 


3.20  Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days. 

Then  let  us  tesr  out  of  the  Bible  every 
line  that  speaks  of  retribution  or  punishment 
or  judgment— for  we  don’t  like  -Aose  pas- 
sages; they  hurt  our  feelings — and  let  us 
leave  only  those  words  that  speak  of  love  and 
mercy  and  forgiveness;  for  those  words  are 
the  only  ones  that  can  be  true;  for  those 
words  don’t  make  us  feel  uncomfortable. 

“Away  with  everything  that  hurts  our  feel- 
ings, that  makes  us  anxious,  that  sends  us  to 
our  knees  in  prayer,  that  makes  us  confess 
Christ  and  live  a life  of  self-denial  and  ser- 
vice ! for  when  ihe  judgment  seat  is  prepared, 
and  Christ  sits  down  there  and  we  appear  be- 
fore Him,  He  will  receive  us  just  as  we  come 
before  Him — the  pure  and  the  impure;  the 
selfish  and  the  proud;  and  the  humble  and' 
the  believer  and  the  disbeliever ; and  infidels 
and  scofif'ers  and  cowards  and  deapisers  of 
God’s  love  on  the  earth ; all  the  class  of  men 
who  fell  back  on  weak  and  imperfect  Chris- 
tians as  an  excuse  for  their  own  weak  lives ; 
and  the  drunkards  and  the  liars  and  the  op- 
pressors of  the  poor ; and  everybody  who 


\r  T tv 


Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days.  221 

heard  a thousand  sermons  full  of  gospel  and 
despised  them  because  of  some  imperfection 
in  the  delivery  or  elocution;  and  all  those 
men  who  went  through  the  earth  betrayers 
of  the  home ; and  the  selfish  politicians,  who 
betrayed  their  country ; and  all  the  men  who 
read  the  Bible  and  believed  only  the  parts  that 
didn't  hurt  their  sensitive  feelings ; and  the 
young  men  who  lived  fast  lives  and  sowed 
wild  oats  because  a wicked  and  false  public 
sentiment  made  them  think  it  was  excusable 
and,  perhaps,  necessary ; and  every  other 
man  and  woman  who’  lived  as  he  pleased,  re- 
gardless of  God  and  eternity ; when  all  these 
shall  appear  before  the  judgment  seat  of 
Christ  He  will  behold  them  all  as  one  soul, 
and  with  a smile  of  gracious  pardon  will 
reach  out  His  Almighty  arm  and  sweep  them 
all  alike  into  a heaven  of  eternal  bliss,  there 
to  reign  with  Him  in  glory  and  power,  world 
without  end ! 

‘‘But  is  this  what  Christ  taught  the  world? 
Suppose  what  we  have  said  is- true;  it  turns 
His  whole  life  into  a splendid  mockery. 


222  Robert  Hardys  Seven  Days. 

Foolishness  and  absurdity  could  go ‘no  fur- 
ther than  to  create  a life  like  His  and  to  put 
into  His  mouth  such  teachings  as  we  have  re- 
ceived, if  at  the  judgment  seat  all  souls,  re- 
gardless of  their  acts  in  this  world,  are  re- 
ceived on  an  equal  footing  and  all  received 
into  eternal  life.  And  where  is  there  any 
room  in  the  teachings  of  Christ  for  a pur- 
gatory? Do  we  believe  that?  Is  it  not  the 
plain  teaching  that  after  the  judgment  the 
destiny  of  souls  is  fixed  forever  ? 

''But  what  could  man  wish  more?  Will 
he  not  have  opportunity  enough  to  accept 
the  mercy  of  God  before  that  time?  Does 
He  not  have  opportunity?  If  any  soul  ap- 
pears at  last  and  at  the  judgment  com- 
plains that  he  did  not  have  a fair 
chance,  will  that  gracious  Judge  con- 
demn him  if  his  complaint  be  true  ? 
We  know  He  will  not.  But  the  facts  of  the 
judgment  are  these : At  that  time,  whenever 
it  is,  the  souls  of  men  will  be  passed  for  their 
acts  in  the  earthly  life  a verdict  that  will  de- 
termine their  everlasting  destiny ; and  that 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  223 

verdict  will  be  just  and  it  will  be  merciful. 
For  the  crucified  One  could  not  do  otherwise. 
But  the  men  who  have  despised  and  neglect- 
ed and  disbelieved  and  confessed  shall  be 
separated  from  Him  forever;  and  the  men 
who  have  confessed  and  belie  ^ed  and  tried  to 
live  like  Him  shall  be  in  His  presence  con- 
tinually. There  will  be  a division  of  souls. 
It  will  not  be  based  on  wealth  or  position  or 
birth  or  education  or  genius,  but  on  Christ- 
dikeness — on  that  divine  and  eternal  thing  we 
call  character.  Everything  else  shall  go 
away  into  destruction,  into  death,  into  pun- 
ishment, into  banishment  from  God.  And 
banishment  from  God  will  be  hell — and  it  will 
be  a hell  not  made  by  God,  but  by  man  him- 
self, who  had  an  opportunity,  nay,  a thou- 
sand opportunities  every  day  of  his  life,  to 
accept  the  bliss  of  heaven  and  of  his  own 
selfish  choice  rejected  every  one  of  them  and 
went  to  his  own  place. 

‘^But  some  soul  starts  up  and  says,  ‘You 
are  not  preaching  the  gospel ; you  are  preach  - 
ing fear,  hell,  torments.  Is  this  your  boasted 


224  Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days. 

love  of  God?'  Yes;  for  what  am  I preach- 
ing, if  not  the  love  of  God,  when  I say,  ‘God 
so  loved  the  world,  that  He  gave  His  only 
begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in 
Him  should  not  perish^  but  have  everlasting 
life?'  Is  there  no  danger  of  perishing? 
Why  did  Christ  come  then?  Why  did  He 
say  the  things  He  did?  Why  did  He  speak 
of  the  condemnation  of  the  wicked  and  un- 
believing if  that  were  not  a part  of  the  gos- 
pel? The  gospel  is  glad  tidings;  but' what 
makes  it  glad  tidings?  Because  of  the  dan- 
ger we  are  in.  What  is  salvation  ? It  is  the 
opposite  of  being  lost.  We  cannot  have  one 
without  the  other.  So  I am  preaching  the 
gospel  here  to-day  when  I say,  ‘We  must  all 
appear  before  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ!' 
There  will  be  no  fear  to  us  then  if  we  believe 
in  Him,  if  we  have  lived  His  life  here,  if  the 
things  done  in  the  body  are  good.  And  more 
than  that : as  long  as  this  earth  life  continues, 
God's  mercy  is  with  us  every  moment. 

“It  is  possible  som.e  soul  is  here  who  for 
years  has  lived  selfishly  within  his  own  little 


Robert  Hardy^s  Seven  Days.  225 

toys  of  pleasure.  He  looks  back  on  a life  of 
uselessness,  of  neglect  of  all  that  Christ  did 
for  him.  He  this  day  hears  the  voice  of  God. 
He  listens ; he  repents ; he  cries  out,  smiting 
on  his  breast,  'God  be  merciful  to  me  a sin- 
ner!’ Then  what  will  God  do?  Will  he  re- 
ject him  because  he  is  old  in  sin?  because  he 
has  wasted  beautiful  years?  When  he  ap- 
pears before  the  judgment  seat  will  Christ 
say,  ‘You  repented  too  late  on  earth.  You 
cannot  be  saved  now?’  No!  even  if  after  a 
hundred  years  of  shame  and  sin  a soul  with 
its  outgoing  breath,  in  genuine  repentance 
and  faith  in  the  Son  of  God,  cries  out  for 
mercy,  that  cry  would  be  answered  and  he 
would  be  saved.  What  less  of  glory  and 
power  such  a soul  may  experience  in  the 
realms  of  glory,  we  may  not  be  able  to  tell. 
But  he  himself  will  be  saved. 

“Is  not  God  merciful,  then?  Let  no  man 
depart  from  this  house  of  God  fearful  or  des- 
pairing. The  earthly  life  is  full  from  begin- 
ning to  close  with  the  love  of  an  Almighty 
Father.  Shall  men  complain  because  they 


226  Robert  Hardfs  Seven  Days. 

cannot  have  all  of  this  life  and  all  of  the 
other,  too,  in  which  to  repent  and  be  for^ 
given?  "Now  is  the  accepted  time;  now  is 
the  day  of  salvation.'  "To-day  if  ye  will  hear 
His  voice,  harden  not  your  hearts/ 

‘"Men  of  Barton,  you  have  heard  the  word 
of  God  proclaimed  from  this  desk  to-day. 
Young  men,  will  you  wait  until  you  are  old 
in  sin  and  shame  before  you  will  repent  and 
be  saved?  How  do  you  know  you  will  live 
to  be  old  men  ? And  what  a life  to  live,  even 
if  you  were  sure  of  a hundred  years,  to  pour 
put  the  dregs  at  last  as  an  offering  to  Christ 
just  to  escape  hell!  Oh,  all  men,  hear  ye 
this  day  the  message  of  Christ!  He  is  a 
Saviour  of  sinners.  It  is  not  necessary  that 
any  man  go  away  from  this  service  unsaved. 
You  may  believe  here  and  now.  Won't  you 
do  it?  "Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  thou  shalt  be  saved.'  Then  go  home  and 
pray,  rejoicing.  And  if  the  Almighty  call 
you  out  and  away  from  this  prison  of  clay 
into  His  resplendent  presence  this  very 
night,  what  will  you  have  to  fear?  Not  one 


Robert  Hard)Ps  Seven  Days.  227 

thing.  You  have  put  your  trust  in  Him. 
Your  sins  are  all  forgiven.  You  can  appear 
before  His  judgment  seat  and  await  your 
verdict  with  a calm  and  joyful  soul.  For 
you  know  as  you  gaze  into  the  loving  coun- 
tenance of  your  Redeemer  and  Judge  that 
when  He  turns  and  speaks  to  you  He  will 
say,  ‘Come,  ye  beloved  of  my  Father,  inherit 
the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  foun- 
dation of  the  world.'  Truly  God  is  love !’' 

The  prayer  that  followed  the  sermon 
seemed  to  bring  all  the  souls  in  the  church 
very  close  to  God.  The  events  of  the  past 
week  had  stirred  the  town  deeply.  The  aw- 
ful disaster  so  near  them ; the  speech  of  Mr. 
Hardy  in  the  Town  Hall ; rumors  of  the  ex- 
perience he  was  having — all  these  had  pre- 
pared the  audience  for  just  such  a sermon  on 
Sunday  morning.  And  men  bowed  their 
heads  and  prayed  in  that  house  who  had  not 
done  such  a thing  sincerely  in  many  years. 

Robert  had  many  inquiries  concerning 
himself  and  Clara  to  answer  at  the  close  of 
the  service.  He  finally  went  up  and  thanked 


228  Robert  HardyPs  Seven  Days. 

the  minister  for  what  he  had  said,  and  spoke 
as  he  never  had  spoken  before  in  encourage- 
ment of  his  pastor’s  work.  But  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  rnust  be  getting  home.  The 
time  was  growing  short;  he  must  have  the 
rest  of  it  with  the  dear  ones  in  the  home. 

What  need  to  describe  the  details  of  the 
afternoon?  Robert  Hardy  had  the  joy  of 
knowing  that  all  his  children  were  with  him, 
and  at  dark  James  came  over  and  asked  if  he 
might  join  the  circle.  He  did  not  know  al! 
that  Mr.  Hardy  had  gone  through,  but  the 
children  had  told  him  enough  to  make  him 
want  to  be  with  the  family. 

'"Why,  come  right  in  and  join  the  circle, 
Jim!  You’re  one  of  us,”  cried  Mr.  Hardy, 
cheerfully.  So  Jim  drew  up  his  chair  and 
the  conversation  went  on.  They  were  sit- 
ting in  the  upstairs  room  where  Clara  lay  and 
facing  an  open  fire.  The  doctor  had  called 
in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  and  brought 
two  other  skilled  surgeons. and  physicians  at 
Mr.  Hardy’s  request.  It  was  a singular  case 
and  nothing  special  could  be  done.  This 


Robert  Ha7'd}Ps  Seven  Days.  229 

was  the  unanimous  opinion  after  deep  con- 
sultation, and  after  remaining  some  time  the 
doctors  had  withdrawn. 

When  it  grew  dark,  Alice  started  to  turn 
on  the  lights,  but  her  father  said,  ‘‘Let  us  sit 
in  the  firelight.''  So  they  drew  close  to- 
gether, and  in  awe  looked  upon  him  who 
seemed  so  sure  that  God  would  call  him  away 
at  midnight.  Who  shall  recount  the  words 
that  were  uttered  ? the  exact  sentences 
spoken?  the  fears  and  hopes  and  petitions 
and  tears  of  the  wife?  the  commands  of  the 
father  to  his  boys  to  grow  up  into  the  perfect 
manhood  in  Jesus  Christ?  the  sweet  words  of 
love  and  courage  that  passed  between  him 
and  his  wife  and  daughters?  These  things 
cannot  be  described ; they  can  only  be  im- 
agined. 

So  the  night  passed.  It  was  after  eleven 
o’clock;  when  the  conversation  had  almost 
ceased  and  all  were  sitting  hushed  in  a grow- 
ing silence,  that  Clara  spoke  again,  so  sud- 
denly and  clearly  that  they  were  all  startled 
and  awed  by  it: 


230  Robert  lIard)Ps  Seven  Days. 

^'Father!  mother!  where  have  I been?  I 
have  had  such  a dream!  Where  are  you? 
Where  am  I?” 

Mrs.  Hardy  arose,  and  with  tears  stream- 
ing down  her  face,  kneeled  beside  the  bed 
and  in  a few  words  recalled  Clara  to  her  sur- 
roundings. The  girl  had  come  out  of  her 
strange  unconsciousness  with  all  her  facul- 
ties intact.  Gradually  she  recalled  the  past, 
the  accident,  the  dream  of  her  father.  She 
smiled  happily  on  them  all,  and  they  for  a 
while  forgot  the  approach  of  midnight  and 
its  possible  meaning  to  Mr.  Hardy — all  but 
himself.  He  kneeled  by  the  bed,  at  the  side 
of  his  wife,  and  thanked  God  that  his  dear 
one  was  restored.  Suddenly  he  rose  to  his 
feet  and  spoke  aloud,  quietly,  but  clearly: 
*'Did  you  not  hear  some  one  calling?”  His 
face  was  pale,  but  peaceful.  He  bent  down 
and  kissed  Clara,  embraced  his  sons,  drew 
his  wife  to  him,  and  placed  his  hand  on  Bes- 
sie’s head;  then,  as  if  in  answer  to  a com- 
mand, he  gently  kneeled  down  again  by  his 
chair  and  as  his  lips  moved  in  prayer  the 


Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days.  231 

clock  struck  once  more  the  hour  of  twelve. 
He  continued  kneeling  there,  and  he  was 
nearer  God  than  he  had  ever  been  in  all  his 
life  before. 

Thus  Robert  Hardy's  Seven  Days  came  to 
an  end. 


When  Troop  A went 
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it  is  said,  had  in  his  hav- 
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A widow  sixty-eiprht  years  old,  liviiisr  in  New  York  City,  had  been 
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NOW  READY 


THE  LIFE  OF  OUR  GREAT 
AMERICAN  NAVAL  HERO, 


ADMIRAL  QEORQE  DEWEY. 


BY  WILL  M*  CLEMENS,  * 

Author  of  “ Theodore  Roosevelt  the  American,  His  Life  and  IVorkf 
A Ken  of  Kipling f The  Depe’W  Story  Bookf  etc. 

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Miss  Mathers  has  written  many  excellent  books,  but 
none  has  achieved  such  renown  as  this  her  latest  and 
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^of  the  day,  and  realizing  that  it  would  prove  a great 
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ADAMS,  0.  Lo 

Detective’s  Clew,  The.  Magnet  No.  66.  loc. 

ALLEN,  GRANT 

In  All  Shades.  Arrow  No.  22.  loc. 

AUGUSTA,  CLARA 

Nobody’s  Daughter  Eagle  No,  i27o  loc, 

RARRETT,  FRANK 

Great  Hesper,  The.  Arrow  No.  31.  loc. 

BARRIE,  J.  M, 

Little  Minister,  The.  Eagle  No.  96,  loc. 

Also  a better  edition.  (Illustrated),  Drama  No,  34.  25c, 
Also  in  cloth.  (Six  illustrations),  50c.> 

BELOT,  ADOLPHE 

Tragedy  of  the  Rue  de  la  Paix,  The.  Arrow  No.  32.  loc. 
BOURGET,  PAUL 

Living  Lie,  A.  Arrow  No.  8.  loc.. 

BULLEN,  FRANK  To 
Cruise  of  the  Cachalot 

BURGESS,  NEIL 

County  Fair,  The, 


Arrow  No,  76.  loc. 
Eagle  No,  60.  loc. 


CAFFYN,  MANNINGTON,  anthor  of  ^^A  Yellow  Astero’^ 


Miss  Milne  and  I. 

CAINE,  HALL 

Bondman,  The. 

She’s  All  the  World  to  Me. 


Arrow  No,  44.  loc. 


Arrow  No.  73. 
Arrow  No.  2. 


IOC. 

IOC, 


Worth  Winning, 


CAMERON,  MRSo  EMILY  LOVETT 


CARTER,  NICHOLAS 


Arrow  No.  52,  loc. 


Accidental  Password,  An.  Magnet  No.  53. 

American  Marquis,  The.  7, 

Among  the  Counterfeiters,  39. 

Among  the  Nihilists.  43. 

At  Odds  with  Scotland  Yard.  49. 

At  Thompson’s  Ranch.  56. 

Australian  Klondike,  A,  • 8. 

Caught  in  the  Toils.  14- 

Chance  Discovery,  ,A.  19- 

Check  No.  777.  'I  46. 

Clever  Celestial,  A **  75» 

Crescent  Brotherhood,  The.  83. 

Crime  of  a Countess,  The.  5- 

Dead  Man’s  Grip,  A.  85. 

Deposit  Vault  Puzzle,  A.  ^ “ 21. 

Detective’s  Pretty  Neighbor  and  Other  Stories  ‘‘  89. 

Diamond  Mine  Case,  The.  71- 

Double  Shuffle  Club,  The.  68. 

Evidence  by  Telephone.  **  23. 

Fair  Criminal,  A.  ** 

Fighting  Against  Millions.  H- 

Found  on  the  Beach.  ‘‘  65. 


IOC. 


(G2b 


CAIITER,  NICHOLAS.-Contimieit. 


Gambler’s  Syndicate,  The. 

Magnet  No.  18 

Gideon  Drexel’s  Millions 

‘‘  99» 

Great  Enigma,  The. 

‘‘  2. 

Great  Money  Order  Swindle,  The. 

“ 9i‘ 

Harrison  Keith,  Detective 

“ 93* 

Klondike  Claim,  A. 

“ I. 

Man  from  India,  The. 

50- 

Millionaire  Partner,  A. 

“ 59- 

Mysterious  Mail  Robbery,  The. 

“ 13. 

Nick  Carter  and  the  Green  Goods  Man. 

‘‘  87. 

Old  Detective’s  Pupil,  The. 

10. 

Piano  Box  Mystery,  The. 

" 17. 

Playing  a Bold  Game. 

12. 

Puzzle  of  Five  Pistols,  The,  and  Other  Stories.  “ 97. 

Sealed  Orders 

95* 

Sign  of  the  Crossed  Knives,  The. 

‘‘  79* 

Stolen  Identity,  A. 

9. 

Titled  Counterfeiter,  A. 

“ 3. 

Tracked  Across  the  Atlantic. 

4* 

Two  Plus  Two. 

“ 73- 

Van  Alstine  Case,  The. 

“ 77- 

Wall  Street  Haul,  A. 

6. 

Wanted  by  Two  Clients. 

“ 81. 

Woman’s  Hand,  A. 

“ 16. 

CLAY,  BERTHA  M. 

Another  Man’s  Wife. 

Eagle  No.  48. 

Another  Woman’s  Husband. 

Eagle  No,  42. 

Between  Two  Hearts. 

Eagle  No.  84. 

Fair  but  Faithless. 

Eagle  No.  102, 

For  a Woman’s  Honor. 

Eagle  No.  4. 

Gipsy’s  Daughter,  The. 

Eagle  No,  ii. 

Gladys  Greye. 

Eagle  No.  59. 

Heart’s  Bitterness,  A. 

Eagle  No.  log. 

Heart’s  Idol,  A. 

Eagle  No.  21. 

Ideal  Love,  An, 

Eagle  No.  119 

In  Love’s  Crucible. 

Eagle  No,  70. 

Marjorie  Deane. 

’Twixt  Love  and  Hate. 

Eagle  No.  79. 

Eagle  No.  95. 

Violet  Lisle, 

Eagle  ^No.  14. 

CLEMENS,  WILL  M. 

Life  of  Admiral  Dewey,  The. 

COBB,  C.  W. 

Historical  No.  7. 

The  Mountaineer  Detective. 

Magnet  No.  40. 

COBB,  SYLYANUS,. 

Jr. 

Ben  Hamed.  Columbia  No.  i8. 

Golden  Ko^le,  The.  ‘‘  19. 

King’s  Talisman,  The  “ 21. 

Yankee  Champion,  The.  Eagle  No.  78. 

COLLINS,  WILKIE 

My  Lady’s  Moneyo  Arrow  Noc  58 

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86. 

26. 

27. 

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55- 

36. 

47. 


IOC. 

IOC. 


IOC. 


59‘ 

67. 

16. 


COMFORT,  LUCY  RANDALL 

Cecile's  Marriage.  Eagle  No. 

Widowed  Bride,  The.  Eagle  No. 

CORELLI,  MARIE 

Ardath,  Vol.  I.  Arrow  No. 

Ardath.  Yol.  II. 

Romance  of  Two  Worlds,  A. 

Thelma. 

Vendetta.  “ 

Wormwood.  “ 

DARRELL  CHARLES 
When  London  Sleeps.  Eagle  No.  105.  loc 

DAUDET,  ALPHONSE 

Jack.  Arrow  No. 

Partners,  The.  Arrow  No. 

Sappho.  Arrow  No. 

DE  GONCOURT,  E.  AND  J. 

Germinie  Eacerteux.  Arrow  No.  4. 

DELPIT,  ALBERT 

Coralie’s  Son.  Arrow  No.  35. 

DENISON,  MRS.  MARY  A. 

Daughter  of  the  Regiment,  The.  Eagle  No.  116. 

DE  PONT  JEST,  RENE. 

No.  13  Rue  Marlot  Magnet  No,  96. 

DE  TINSEAU,  LEON 

His  Fatal  Vow  or  Sealed  Lips.  Arrow  No.  23. 

DEY,  MARMADUKE 

Muertalma;  or,  the  Poisoned  Pin.  Magnet  No.  58. 

DONNELLY,  H.  GRATTAN 

Darkest  Russia.  Eagle  No.  94. 

DOUGLAS,  A.  M. 

Midnight  Marriage,  The.  Eagle  No.  6. 

DOYLE,  A.  CONAN 

Beyond  the  City.  Arrow  No.  6. 

Firm  of  Girdlestone,  The.  ^ Arrow  No.  69. 

Sherlock  Holmes’  Detective  Stories,  The.  Magnet  No.  72. 

Sign  of  the  Four,  The.  Arrow  No.  17. 

Study  in  Scarlet,  A.  Arrow  No.  3. 

DU  BOISGOBEY,  FORTUNE 
Blue  Veil,  The.  Magnet  No.  44. 

Chevalier  Casse  Cou,  The.  63. 

Convict  Colonel,  The.  33- 

Crime  of  the  Opera  House,  The.  Vol.  I.  35. 

Crime  of  the  Opera  House,  The.  Vol.  II.  3§- 

His  Great  Revenge.  Vol.  I.  Magnet  No.  54. 

His  Great  Revenge.  Vol.  II.  • 55- 

Matapan  Aflair,  The.  38. 

Red  Camellia,  The.  ''  64. 

Red  Lottery  Ticket,  The,  31- 

Steel  Necklace,  The.  **  27. 

(G4) 


IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

lOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 


loe. 


DUCHESS,  THE 

Duchess,  The.  Arrow  No.  34. 

Honourable  Mrs.  Vereker,  The.  Arrow  No,  62. 

Mildred  Trevanion.  Arrow  No.  40. 

DUDLEY,  BICKNELL 

Gentleman  from  Gascony,  A.  Eagle  No.  89. 

DUFFY,  EICHAKD 

Saved  from  the  Sea.  Eagle  No.  118. 

DUMAS,  ALEXANDRE 

Three  Musketeers,  The.  Arrow  No.  77. 

EBERS,  OEORGE. 

Egyptian  Princess,  An.  Arrow  No.  74. 


EDWARDS,  JULIA 

Beautiful  but  Poor.  Eagle  No.  8. 

Estelle’s  Millionaire  Lover.  Eagle  No.  27. 

He  Loves  Me,  Loves  Me  Not.  Eagle  No.  3. 

Little  Widow,  The.  Eagle  No.  13. 

Prettiest  of  All.  Eagle  No.  124. 

Stella  Sterling.  Eagle  No.  62. 

EDWARDS,  WARREN 

Colonel’s  Wife,  The.  Eagle  No.  39. 

Dispatch  Bearer,  The.  Eagle  No.  56. 

War  Reporter,  The.  Eagle  No.  97. 

ELLIS,  EDWARD  S. 

From  Tent  to  White  House  Medal  No.  ii. 


IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 


lOf', 

IOC. 

ioc» 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

loc’ 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 


FENN,  GEORGE  MANYILLE 

Bag  of  Diamonds,  The.  Magnet  No.  30.  loc. 

FEUILLET,  OCTAYE 

Romance  of  a Poor  Young  Man,  The.  Arrow  No.  46.  loc. 
FITCH,  ENSIGN  CLARKE,  U-  S,  N. 


Court  Martialled. 

Columbia  No. 

6. 

IOC. 

Fighting  Squadron,  The. 

(( 

2. 

Gauntlet  of  Fire,  A. 

ii 

10. 

(i 

Holding  tne  Fort. 

i( 

II. 

it 

Prisoner  of  Morro,  A. 

ii 

4. 

Saved  by  the  Enemy. 

H 

8. 

Soldier  Monk,  The. 

tt 

17* 

it 

Soldier’s  Pledge,  A, 

it 

12. 

&i 

Wolves  of  the  Navy. 

it 

13- 

it 

FLEMING,  MAY  AGNES 

Virginia  Heiress,  The. 

Eagle  No. 

9. 

IOC. 

FRANCILLON, 

R.  E. 

King  or  Knave. 

Arrow  No. 

7. 

IOC. 

GABORIAU,  EMILE 

Caught  in  the  Net  (Slaves  of  Paris,  Vol.  I.) 

Magnet  No. 

20. 

IOC. 

Champdoce  Mystery,  The  (Slaves  of  Paris,  Vol.  II.). 

Magnet  No. 

22. 

IOC. 

Clique  of  Gold,  The. 

Magnet  No. 

29. 

IOC. 

Magnet  No. 

24. 

IOC. 

Vol.  ID.  . 

Magnet  No. 

25. 

IOC. 

26. 

^ * 

15. 

n 

^S 

Eagle  No. 

98. 

IOC. 

22. 

“ 

41. 

ii 

50. 

i t 

a 

17. 

** 

85. 

73. 

u 

U 

117. 

(( 

24. 

(( 

Arrow  No.  68. 

IOC. 

GABORIAU^  EMILE.  Continued. 

Detective’s  Dilemma,  The  (Mons.  Lecoq,  Vol.  L). 


File  No.  113. 

Widow  Lerouge,  The. 

BARVICE3  CHAllLl 

Claire. 

Elaine. 

Her  Heart’s  Desire. 

Her  Ransom. 

Leslie’s  Loyalty. 

Lorrie;  or.  Hollow  Gold. 

Marquis,  The. 

She  Loved  Him. 

Wasted  Love,  A. 

GILBERT,  W.  S. 

Bab  Ballads,  The. 

GOODE,  GEORGE  W. 

Post  Office  Detective,  The.  Magnet  No.  52. 

GRAYDOX,  WILLIAM  MURRAY. 

From  Lake  to  Wilderness*  Medal  No.  22. 

White  King  of  Africa,  The.  “ 16. 

HAGGARD,  H.  RIDER 

Allan  Quatermain.  Arrow  No.  33. 

Eric  Brighteyes.  51. 

HALL,  A.  D. 

Cattle  King,  The. 

Cuba:  Its  Past,  Present  and  Future. 

Devil’s  Island  (The  Story  of  Dreyfus) 

Fatal  Card,  The. 

Hawaii. 

Mavourneen. 

Northern  Lights. 

Philippines.  The. 

Pope  Leo  XIII.,  A Life  oL 
Porto  Rico. 

Uncle  Sam’s  Ships,  (A  History  of  our  Navy) 

Victoria,  Queen  and  Empress 

HANSHEW,  T.  W* 

Queen  of  Treachery,  A.  Eagle  No.  93. 

HARBAUGH,  T.  C. 

White  Squadron,  The.  Eagle  No.  120, 

HARBEN,  WILL  N. 

North  Walk  Mystery,  The.  Magnet  No.  88. 

HATTON,  JOSEPH 

John  Needham’s  Double.  Magnet  No.  41. 


Eagle  No.  112. 
Hi^to/ical  No,  i. 
Eagle  No.  125. 
Ea^le  No.  16. 
Historical  No.  4. 
Eagle  No.  76. 
Eagle  No.  123. 
Historical  No.  2. 

O’ 

Historical  No.  3. 


9* 


IOC. 


IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC, 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC.- 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 


IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 


IOC. 
(G  6) 


HAWTHORNE,  NATHANIEL 


House  of  Seven  Gables. 

Arrow  No.  54. 

TOC. 

HENTY  G.  A. 

Dragon  and  the  Raven,  The. 

Medal  No.  23. 

IOC. 

Jack  Archer 

“ 19- 

IOC. 

Young  Colonists,  The. 

“ 14- 

IOC. 

HILL,  K.  F, 

Mysterious  Case,  A. 

Magnet  No.  32. 

IOC. 

Mystery  of  a Madstone,  The. 

Magnet.  No.  67 

IOC. 

Twin  Detectives,  The. 

Magnet  No.  74. 

IOC. 

HOLMKS,  MES.  MAEI  J. 

English  Orphans. 

Arrow  No.  57. 

IOC. 

Homestead  on  the  Hillside. 

“ 60. 

IOC. 

’Lena  Rivers. 

56. 

IOC. 

Meadowbrook. 

“ 79- 

IOC, 

Tempest  and  Sunshine. 

“ 53- 

IOC. 

HOLZMEYER,  GENIE  (Mrs.  Sydney  Rosenfeld) 

Proud  Dishonor,  A. 

Eagle  No.  104. 

IOC. 

’ HOPE,  ANTHONY 

Frivolous  Cupid  and  Other  Stories 

Arrow  No.  64. 

IOC. 

HUGO,  VICTOR 

Han  of  Iceland. 

Arrow  No.  19. 

IOC. 

Ruy  Bias. 

Arrow  No.  37. 

IOC. 

Toilers  of  the  Sea,  The. 

Arrow  No.  30. 

IOC. 

HUME,  FERGUS 

Mystery  of  a Hansom  Cab,  The. 

Magnet  No.  47. 

IOC, 

INGRAHAM,  REV.  PROF 

. J.  H. 

Prince  of  the  House  of  David,,  The. 

Arrow  No.  43. 

IOC. 

JAMES,  POLICE  CAPTAIN 

Little  Lightning, 

Magnet  No.  70. 

IOC. 

Revenue  Detective,  The. 

Magnet  No.  42. 

IOC. 

JAMES,  T.  P. 

Under  Fire, 

Eagle  No.  75. 

IOC. 

JONES,  EMMA  GARKISON 

Wedded  for  an  Hour. 

Eagle  No.  81. 

IOC, 

KIPLING,  EUDYARD 

Ballads  and  Other  Verses. 

Arrow  No.  49. 

IOC. 

Light  That  Failed,  The. 

Arrow  No.  i. 

IOC. 

Phantom  Rickshaw,  The. 

Arrow  No.  12. 

IOC. 

Plain  Tales  from  the  Hills 

Arrow  No.  63. 

lOC^ 

Soldiers  Three  and  Black  and  White 

el 

IOC. 

Under  the  Deodors  and  Story  of  the  Gadsbys  “ 70. 

IOC, 

LEON,  LEWIS 

Silver  Ship,  The. 


Whose  Wife  Is  She? 

(G  7) 


LISLE,  ANNIE 


Medal  No.  i8.  loc. 
Eagle  No.  no.  loc. 


i 


LOUNSBERRY,  LIEUT.  LIONEL 


Cadet  Kit  Carey. 

Medal  No. 

2. 

IOC. 

Captain  Carey  of  the  Gallant  Seventh. 

Medal  No. 

6. 

IOC. 

Ensign  Merrill 

ii 

17* 

IOC. 

Kit  Carey’s  Protege 

a 

8. 

IOC. 

Lieutenant  Carey’s  Luck, 

Medal  No. 

4. 

IOC. 

Midshipman  Merrill 

15- 

IOC. 

Won  at  West  Point 

u 

SI. 

IOC. 

LYALL,  EDNA 

Donovan. 

Arrow  No. 

50. 

IOC. 

Hardy,  Norsman  A. 

ii 

66. 

IOC, 

Ill  the  Golden  Days 

u 

71* 

IOC. 

Won  by  Waiting. 

Arrow  No. 

45. 

IOC. 

McKENZlE.  DONALD  J. 

Under  His  Thumb.* 

Mannet  No. 

28. 

IOC. 

Face  to  Face. 

Magnet  No.  76. 

IOC. 

MAITLAND,  0. 

Society  Detective,  The. 

Magnet  No. 

34. 

IOC. 

MANLEY,  MARLINE 

Old  Specie. 

Magnet  Nb. 

45. 

IOC. 

Poker  King,  The. 

Magnet  No. 

80. 

IOC. 

Vestibule  Limited  Mystery,  The. 

Magnet  No. 

57. 

IOC. 

MATTHEW,  CHARLES 

Inspector’s  Puzzle,  The.  Magnet  No.  84.  loc. 

MERRICK,  DR.  MARK 

Great  Travers  Case,  The.  Magnet  No.  48.  loc. 

MERRIMAN,  HENRY  SETON. 


Phantom  Future,  The 

Arrow  No.  78. 

IOC. 

MIDDLEMAS,  JEAN 

Maddoxes,  The. 

Arrow  No.  38. 

IOC. 

MILLER,  MRS.  ALEX. 

McYEIGH 

Crushed  Lily,  A. 

Eagle  No.  113. 

IOC. 

Dora  Tenney. 

Eagle  No.  64. 

IOC. 

Lillian,  My  Lillian. 

Eagle  No.  106. 

IOC. 

Little  Coquette  Bonnie. 

Eagle  No.  43. 

IOC. 

Little  Southern  Beauty,  A. 

Eagle  No.  25. 

IOC. 

Pretty  Geraldine. 

Eagle  No.  34. 

IOC. 

Rosamond. 

Eagle  No.  57. 

IOC, 

Senators  Bride,  The. 

20. 

Senator’s  Favorite,  The 

“ 5. 

Sweet  Violet. 

Eagle  No.  91. 

IOC. 

MILMAN,  HARRY  DU  ROTS 

Mr.  Lake  of  Chicago. 

Eagle  No.  19. 

IOC. 

MURRAY,  DAYID  CHRISTIE 

Dangerous  Catspaw,  A. 

Arrow  No.  20. 

IOC. 

MURRAY,  LIEUTENANT 

Up  the  Ladder 

Medal  No.  13. 

IOC. 

(G8) 


NOBEIS,  W.  E, 


Chris.  Arrow  No.  29.  loc. 

Rogue,  The.  Arrow  No.  9.  loc. 

NORTH,  BARCLAY. 

Diamond  Button,  The  Magnet  No.  100.  loc. 

On  the  Rack  Magnet  No.  90.  loc. 

“ Vivier  ” of  Vivier  Longmans  Sc  Co.,  Bankers  “ 94.  loc. 

OPTIC,  OlilVER 


All  Aboard. 

Medal  No.  3. 

IOC. 

Boat  Club,  The. 

Medal  No.  i. 

IOC. 

Now  or  Never. 

Medal  No.  5. 

IOC. 

Try  Again 

“ 9- 

IOC. 

OTIS, 

JAMES 

Chased  Through  Norway. 

Medal  No.  7. 

IOC. 

Wheeling  for  Fortune 

‘‘  20. 

IOC. 

PATTEN, 

GILBERT 

Boy  from  the  West,  The 

Medal  No.  24. 

IOC. 

Don  Kirk,  the  Boy  Cattle  King  Medal  No.  10. 

IOC. 

Don  Kirk’s  Mine 

12. 

IOC. 

PECK,  PROF. 

WM.  HENRY 

Locksmith  of  Lyons,  The. 

Eagle  No.  83. 

IOC. 

PEMBERTON,  MAX 

Iron  Pirate,  The. 

Arrow  No.  48. 

IOC. 

PHILIPS,  F.  C. 

As  in  a Looking  Glass. 

Arrow  No.  13. 

IOC. 

Jack  and  Three  Jills, 

Arrow  No.  14. 

IOC. 

(ARTHUR  T. 

QUILLEE  COfCH) 

Dead  Man’s  Rock 

Arrow  No.  72. 

IOC. 

RATHBORNE, 

ST.  GEORGE 

Baron  Sam. 

Eagle  No.  30. 
“ 26. 

IOC. 

Captain  Tom. 

u 

Colonel  by  Brevet,  The. 

Eagle  No.  47. 

''  15. 

lOCe 

Dr.  Jack. 

Also  in  cloth, 

Rose  Series  No.  2. 

25c. 

Dr.- Jack’s  Wife. 

Eagle  No.  18. 

IOC. 

Fair  Maid  of  Fez,  The. 

“ 80. 

Fair  Revolutionist,  A. 

Eagle  No.  115. 

IOC. 

Girl  from  Hong  Kong,  The 

Eagle  No.  126. 

IOC. 

Goddess  of  Africa,  A. 

Eagle  No.  loi. 

IOC. 

Great  Mogul,  The. 

35- 

Li 

Major  Matterson  of  Kentucky. 

“ 58. 

Miss  Caprice. 

28. 

<< 

Miss  Pauline  of  New  York. 

“ ' 23, 

Monsieur  Bob. 

40. 

ii 

Mrs.  Bob. 

*33. 

tt 

Nabob  of  Singapore,  The. 

J8. 

tt 

Son  of  Mars,  A. 

“ 108. 

4i 

Spider’s  Web,  The. 

‘‘  71. 

RICHARDSON, 

LEANDER  P. 

Prairie  Detective,  The. 

(0  9) 

Magnet  No.  37. 

IOC. 

I; 


liOSTANl),  ED3IONI) 

Cyrano  de  Bergerac.  Arrow  No. 

HOWLANDS,  EFFIE  ADELAIDE 

Carla ; or,  Married  at  Sight.  Eagle  No.  107. 

Woman  Against  Woman.  Eagle  No.  52. 

ROYLE,  EDWIN  MILTON 

Captain  Impudence.  Eagle  No. 

RUSSELL,  We  CLARK 

Marriage  at  Sea,  A.  Arrow  No. 

SARDOU,  yiCTORIEN 

Cleopatra.  Eagle  No. 

Fedora.  << 

Gismonda. 

La  Tosca.  „ 

Theodora. 

SAWYER,  EUGENE  T. 

Los  Huecos  Mystery,  The.  Magnet  No. 

Maltese  Cross,  The.  Magnet  No. 

SHELDON,  MKS.  GEOROIE 

Eagle  No. 
Eagle  No. 
Eagle  No.  iii. 

122. 


42.  IOC. 


IOC. 

IOC. 


82.  IOC. 


II.  IOC. 


Audrey’s  Recompense. 
Edrie’s  Legacy. 
Faithful  Shirley 
Grazia’s  Mistake 
Queen  Bess. 

Ruby’s  Reward. 

That  Dowdy. 

Thrice  Wedded. 

Tina. 

Two  Keys. 

Virgie’s  Inheritance. 
Witch  Hazel. 


54. 

36. 

67. 

61. 

29. 


51. 

61. 


99. 

12. 


Eagle  No.  I. 
Eagle  No.  2. 
Eagle  No.  44- 
Eagle  No.  55. 
Eagle  No.  77. 

. Eagle  No.  7. 

88. 

Eagle  No.  66. 


IOC. 


IOC. 

IOC. 


IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

IOC. 

u 

IOC. 


SHELDON.  REV.  CHARLES  M. 

In  His  Steps;  What  Would  Jesus  Do?  Alliance  No.  i. 
Robert  Hardy’s  Seven  Days  2. 

SHERBURNE,  HARRIET 

Wilful  Winnie.  Eagle  No.  72. 

SMITH,  FRANCIS  S. 

Alice  Blake.  ' ' Eagle  No.  100. 

Little  Sunshine.  Eagle  No. 

STEYENSON,  ROBERT  LOUIS 


Kidnapped. 

Master  of  Ballantrae. 
New  Arabian  Nights 
Treasure  Island. 


Arrow  No.  I5- 
Ar’-ow  No.  5. 
Arrow  No,  75. 
Arrow  No.  24. 


IOC, 

IOC. 


IOC. 


IOC. 

IOC. 


IOC. 
IOC. 
IOC. 
IOC. 
(O  10) 


